


pastiche

by Narraboth



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: A little bit of angst, F/F, Fluff, a considerable amount of tender touching, a sprinkling of yearning, containing mainly:, enragingly horny behaviour, extremely short ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 23,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28382757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narraboth/pseuds/Narraboth
Summary: A collection of short ficlets cross-posted from tumblr.(Mainly SuperCorp, ships marked for every chapter.)
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Andrea Rojas, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas, Lena Luthor/Andrea Rojas
Comments: 174
Kudos: 692





	1. suiting up [SC]

Kara Danvers is, objectively speaking, an incredibly worthy object of one’s workplace crush. ****

Most of CatCo’s employees will readily admit that they’ve all _been there_ : Kara Danvers is lovely and kind, she has the nicest laugh, she’s practically sunshine personified. She remembers people’s birthdays, brings them coffee unasked, and attempts to temper Cat Grant’s wrath whenever it threatens to strike. Even when she gets bumped to _junior reporter_ , she’s still the same charming goofball, only she now rushes in and out of the building chasing stories with a vengeance instead of lattes. Who could ever resist a crush on her?

Most of CatCo’s employees, however, will also hasten to point out that _they_ could at least keep their infatuation to a reasonable level.

When Lena Luthor first walks into the CatCo bullpen, heading towards Kara without sparing a look for anyone else, the bullpen falls so deadly silent for a second, the clicking of her Louboutins is the only sound that can be heard. Then they all go back to acting totally, extremely normal, as if the most notorious new citizen of National City (a billionaire tech genius at that) isn’t flirting up a storm with a cub reporter right before their very eyes. They only snicker about the gala invitation in a very restrained way, with the appropriate amount of concern and jealousy, _Luthor sure knows what connections she needs_ , _Danvers better look out_ and _You’d be trying to make that_ connection _too if you were in her position_.

Then the visits become a regular occurrence. 

Lena Luthor, CEO of a Fortune 500 company and a staple of 30 under 30 lists, shows up every week, and patiently waits around till Kara, who earnestly says _golly_ and has to be reminded that exclusive is spelled without a ‘k’, stumbles across her. She beams at Kara’s rambling, laughs delightedly at her bad puns, calls her _darling_ in a tone of voice that makes eavesdroppers blush, and bites her lip like she knows exactly what it is that she’d like to devour, and it’s certainly not the vegan bar that she’s dragging Kara away to for lunch. (CatCo refuses to publish the paparazzi shots that surface every third day of the week, but other outlets are not so squeamish.) And Kara meets her every step of the way, face lighting up whenever she sees Lena (even on TV, some note), hugging her tightly with every _hello_ and _goodbye_ even longer than necessary. She gushes about Lena’s projects and meets Lena’s own compliments to her writing with bashful smiles and fidgeting hands. Properly and utterly enamored.

The office settles into the new status quo, _young love and all_ , though it seems to be incredibly slow-burning, with the entirety of CatCo (and likely half of L-Corp) getting front-row tickets to its process. Snapper mumbles about professional boundaries. People start a betting pool, and stare at Kara with a bit more hopeless yearning when she storms past them to greet Lena with a wide smile.

But then, there’s something else that changes with their courtship: Kara starts to get _dapper_.

She’s already looked unreasonably dashing in thin cardigans and pastel button-ups before, drawing dreamy sighs from the interns she’d stroll past. Now, it’s starting to verge on _it’s a public menace to look_ that _hot_. The shirts get tighter, more crisp, and with it, her biceps and powerful shoulders considerably more accentuated. Well-tailored jackets start to make an appearance in her wardrobe, along with slim ties (their quirky patterns a testament to Kara’s nature), and elegantly knit jumpers come winter. And Kara starts to stand a little taller, too, shoulders squared and chin held high, her steps ever so slightly wider and more confident every time she has to chase after Snapper in one of their daily bouts.

The effect of it in the office is most profound. A rolled-up shirtsleeve and a hint of tensing muscles, and Jen at the art department almost scraps a magazine cover in her stupor. An unbuttoned collar and loosened tie at a late night editorial meeting, and Mackenzie nearly pours her coffee into her lap. 

And the very cause of this upheaval is certainly not immune to Kara’s newfound charms, either. There’s already been plenty of physical affection between the pair, as most of the office and a whole wealth of pap photos would attest, but now, it’s bordering on handsiness. Lena takes any opportunity to squeeze Kara’s arm, run a hand over her shoulder, or rest a hand on her forearm as they talk, and the bullpen grows green with jealousy.

When Cat Grant departs for the White House and L-Corp swoops in for the acquisition, the mood turns explosive.

Any illusions about the _lovebirds_ keeping things more strictly professional with the change of management are shattered when Kara strides into the boss’ office with a gift-wrapped planner, all giddy, only to be greeted with their usual hug. Someone lets out a groan.

It only gets expectably worse.

It’s no fault of Lena Luthor’s overall management style – she’s a decent boss, a shockingly good one, even, if one considers the family name and all its implications, and infinitely milder than Miss Grant had been. But there’s only so many times one can witness their chief blushing in the middle of a meeting, or get lost in impure thought staring through the glass walls of the boardroom, out into the bullpen where the _office heartthrob_ is currently stretching, providing an ample view of her entire upper body musculature. There’s only so many times they can watch Lena lean against Kara’s desk and reach down to gently smooth out her shirt’s collar or fiddle with the lapels of her jacket as they talk. At some point, Lena helping Kara tie the bespoke silk tie that she’s recently gifted her after a trip to Italy, batting away her _“Lena, you really shouldn’t have”_ with _“Nonsense, darling”_ and then stopping to fiddle with the damn thing, staring up at Kara with that unmistakably smitten expression becomes just another Tuesday morning at CatCo.

To say that there is a sigh of relief once news of CatCo once again changing hands start to spread is no understatement.

Andrea Rojas seems like a hardass and people start to feel a sense of comfort. She’s a businesswoman through and through, one whose ideas about running the place might be battled, but one who certainly won’t be head over heels for a pair of pretty blue eyes and jacked arms.

Antsiness and relief thus both settle over the first office-wide meeting Ms Rojas calls, preparing to address the entire staff. The first couple of sentences are delivered smoothly, with none of the longing looks cast into the crowd towards a certain blonde that they’ve had to get used to before, and people are starting to feel safe.

Then, getting to the meat of her speech, Andrea Rojas takes a breath and turns towards where the cream of CatCo’s crop is gathered, with Kara Danvers standing at the very front, arms crossed, navy suit hugging her imposing figure tightly, forehead crinkled in annoyed concentration.

Andrea Rojas looks, then looks again, and skids to a halt, lips parting as she takes in the view. Twelve seconds go by, an agonizing eternity, before she’d continue her speech, her gaze returning to Kara again and again.

“If you have any questions about the future of CatCo, I’d be happy to hear them now,” she finishes. “Or in my office, if you’d prefer to sound your concerns in private.”

She looks around, almost haughty before she’d turn her gaze to Kara again, biting her lip as they lock eyes, and someone in the back finally decides to give voice to what they’re all feeling:

“Oh, for fuck’s _sake_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/625729695170920448/you-know-that-catco-employees-are-already-groaning).


	2. sleeping over [SC]

It’s been a long, long day, the exhaustion settling in Lena’s bones so deeply that she feels like her limbs have turned to lead. Working round the clock to stop some murderous robot of brother dear’s collection from running rampant and demolishing a city, it turns out, can really take its toll. Lena’s not even quite sure how they made the journey from J’onn’s Tower to Kara’s apartment. It’s all a blur, the move from the victorious whooping over the comms from Dreamer and the slight shake in her hands as she backed away from the control panel to the entire Super team stretching out all over Kara’s living room, buzzing with the elation of a tough job well done. 

What matters is that she’s here now, anyway, curled up on Kara’s couch, wrapped in Kara’s blanket, basking in the bubbling warmth of Kara’s voice as she rambles on and on about her final throwdown with the Tin Man. (The Super’s nickname for the thirty-feet tall warmachine would drive Lex crazy: the thought brings a smile to Lena’s face every time Kara says it.) What matters is Kara’s hand resting right next to her own, their fingers brushing against each other every time one of them shifts on the couch. What matters is the way Kara’s smile grows a bit wider and a bit brighter every time she looks at Lena. It feels like home again, being there, being with her, and Lena’s inclined to bask in the joy of it as long as she possibly can. 

She doesn’t move when the others start leaving. J’onn bids them goodbye first, then Brainy and Nia decide to head home, hand in hand. Kelly and Alex hang around the longest, the Danvers sisters bantering endlessly, until Kelly gives Alex a pointed look, and soon they are scrambling to their feet and are out the door, arm in arm.

And then, all of the sudden, they’re all alone.

Lena doesn’t quite register it first, not until Kara shuffles closer to her and they’re pressed up against each other. It’s still _new_ , the return to this kind of closeness, the way her head comes to rest on Kara’s shoulder, the way Kara stares down at her with twinkling eyes. It delights and frightens Lena in equal measure.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

Lena reads the words from her lips more than she hears them, too lost in Kara’s face.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I barely broke a sweat today,” Kara shrugs in response. She has that smugly confident smile on her face as she says it, that look that always sends a thrill down Lena’s spine. It draws a giggle to her lips now, undercutting the severity of her eyeroll.

“Braggart.” Kara huffs, faking indignance, and throws an arm around Lena’s shoulder, tucking her closer. Lena’s all too content to let her. “I don’t want to hog your couch all night, though,” she says. They’re not _there_ yet, they cannot be. “I’ve strained your hospitality long enough.”

“Oh, stop it.” Kara’s voice is soft, gentle, but unyielding, the kind that leaves no place for disagreement or self-deprecation. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

It’s so like Kara, to say something with such weight so simply, like the impact of it doesn’t hit Lena so hard that she forgets to breathe for a second. She presses her face into Kara’s sweater and pretends that the tears that she feels welling up in her eyes must be from exhaustion.

“Always?” The question is mumbled, barely audible, but Kara’s answer is immediate:

“Always.” She cups Lena’s chin, thumb gently stroking along Lena’s jawline and raising her head until their eyes meet again. She’s smiling down on Lena again, warm as a summer day. “You look like you wouldn’t even make it to the elevator, c’mon.” 

“I’m gonna fall asleep on you,” Lena threatens weakly, and Kara laughs.

“That’s fine,” she promises. She moves her hand, carding it through Lena’s hair, and Lena all but melts against her. “No fear of smothering me to death.” She goes still for a moment, her body tensing up against Lena’s own. “As long as you won’t mind waking up with me, of course.”

To raise her head and press a kiss to Kara’s cheek feels like the most natural thing in the world to do, then. Lena delights in the smudge of lipstick and the slight part of Kara’s lips before she tucks her face into Kara’s neck again.

“I couldn’t dream of anything better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/621575856906698753/ideal-final-shot-of-this-season-would-have-been-sc).


	3. post-gala buzz [SC]

They can’t stop touching each other.

(It’s not like _that –_ not _yet_ , anyway, though Lena has _definitely_ seen the looks Kara has given her for that dress, and there’s no _way_ she’d wear that high of a thigh slit without any ulterior motives.)

It is the mere enjoyment of each other’s presence: holding hands ever since they walked out of the gala and onto the empty streets, fingers intertwined, shoulders pressed together, steps perfectly in sync. That nod of _I’m here, I’m with you_.

The night is balmy, quiet, perfect for a stroll, though Kara is in high enough spirits that she’d be skipping through the streets even in wind and hail. She feels weightless, like she could just fly away at any moment, tethered only by the touch of Lena’s hand. It’s enough to make Kara feel like she’s bathed in pure sunlight.

“You’ve been grinning for the past four blocks.”

Kara can hear the smile in Lena’s voice even before she turns her head to see it.

“What can I say, it’s been a pretty good night,” she teases. 

It _was_ pretty great, truly. But it could have been the lousiest party they’ve ever attended, and Kara would still be over the moon because she’s spent it all with Lena, hand in hand, _together_. Her heart would still be bursting just from the moment they skipped out and Lena laid her head on Kara’s shoulder. She’s gazing at Kara now, with her own endeared smile, and such immeasurable fondness in her eyes that Kara just has to bend her head to steal a small kiss. Then what started as _small_ turns into a _proper_ one, Lena reaching up to cup Kara’s cheek, caressing, and by the time they part, Kara can feel the dark red lipstick smeared all over her own mouth. And then she’s grinning again, breathless, cheesy: “ _And_ I got to leave the party with the most beautiful woman on my arm.”

“Is that so,” Lena murmurs, moving her hand just enough that her thumb brushes over Kara’s lips, smearing the lipstick more than trying to clean it. She pulls her hand away with a giggle when Kara play-bites at it in retaliation. “Because I think _I_ had the pleasure of that.”

“I’m prepared to fight you on this point,” Kara warns and Lena smirks.

“Bring it.”

She draws back for a second, stepping away from Kara, just far enough that their arms are stretched out, and raises an eyebrow, mischievous, expectant. Kara knows exactly how to respond to: she tugs Lena back, using the momentum to twirl her around and Lena laughs, head thrown back, delighted, letting herself fall into Kara’s arms. She’s still laughing when she’s tucked against Kara’s chest and Kara presses a kiss to the elegant arch of her throat. Her hands find their way into Kara’s hair, fingers entangling into her locks, their soft movement turning into a tight-fisted pull when Kara’s next kiss ends with her teeth grazing against her skin. 

“Careful, Miss Danvers,” Lena warns, the husky warmth of her voice reverberating in Kara’s chest. “Or the night might end in public indecency.”

Kara pulls back for a second, straightening up as much as Lena’s hold lets her, and regards her lover: the slight heave of her chest, the dishevelled state of her hair, once so artfully arranged, and the way her eyes have grown dark enough that Kara can see the starlight reflected in them. She grins.

“Is that a promise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/627366176400572416/bro-that-image-is-stuck-in-my-head-kara-and-lena).


	4. healing [SC]

“You should’ve called me.”

Lena doesn’t respond. She turns her head ever so slightly, her jaw clenched, hard-set, sullen: it makes it easier for Kara to get a look at the bruise on her cheek, already blooming in an angry purple. Kara doesn’t miss that it also makes it easier for Lena to avoid her eyes. 

“I had it under control,” Lena finally says, her last word almost drowning in a painful hiss when Kara presses the cold compress against her cheekbone. Lena bites down on her lip, her face contorted in pain, and Kara moves the compress, changing the pressure with infinite carefulness until she sees Lena relaxing.

It’s not the worst injury, really. It’s painful, sure, and highly inconvenient on the face of a public figure as prominent as Lena, but it’s certainly not the life-threatening kind. Nothing to _fuss about_ , in Lena’s own words. But it still makes Kara’s throat tighten with worry, with _anger_ that it’s there in the first place, that Lena is _hurt_ and Kara did not even have the chance to prevent it from happening. She was only left to pick up the pieces: a half-conscious assailant and a battered and bruised Lena.

“That’s why you’re on my couch, bruised all over,” she frets, resentful, and Lena’s mouth twitches.

“I’ve had worse. _You_ ’ve had worse,” she retorts, meeting Kara’s eyes with a pointed stare. But the icy look only lasts for a second: then, Lena shuts her eyes and turns away again, exhaling deeply. “And besides, it was only because of a malfunction in the suit. Thanagarian battle-axes were not a part of my calculations. I’ll fix it tonight and you won’t need to worry about me again.”

Her last words make Kara’s heart ache more than the nonchalant tone of Lena’s voice.

“Lena,” she breathes, gently cupping Lena’s chin with her free hand. “Look at me, please.” 

She can feel Lena trembling against her touch, can hear her quickened heartbeat, yet it feels like an eternity before Lena does actually raise her gaze to meet Kara’s own. Her eyes are stormy, shimmering with the pain of something more than her injury. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Lena swallows.

“I didn’t think I should,” she breathes. “The last time… I’ve exploited your trust enough, even if you _would_ come–”

Kara cannot bear to let her finish that thought.

“I will always be there for you. Always.” She wants to gather Lena up in her arms, to hold her tightly, to convey all the unwavering love she has for her that she cannot find the words to express. She settles for gently running her thumb along the line of Lena’s jaw instead. “Don’t try to atone for my hurt with more of yours,” she pleads, feeling herself blink back a teardrop. “You’re so precious to me, Lena.”

Lena doesn’t reply. She only stares at Kara, wide-eyed, feverish, then presses the uninjured side of her head to Kara’s chest without another word, burying her face in the soft wool of Kara’s sweater. Her hands grasp Kara with an almost desperate hold and Kara feels like her heart is about to burst when she senses the quiet sob that shakes Lena’s shoulders. She presses a kiss to the crown of Lena’s head in turn, throws an arm around her, cradling Lena in her embrace, running her hands soothingly over Lena’s back.

She doesn’t count how long they stay like that, entangled in each other’s affection. When Lena finally draws back, it’s only so much that she can raise her head and smile at Kara, tremulous, still sniffling: Kara raises her hand to wipe the tears from her cheek on instinct, Lena turns her head to kiss her palm. She smiles again, brighter this time, and indicates her bruised cheek to Kara again. 

“You think you could try using your freeze breath instead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/629339643770470400/listen-lena-tenderly-taking-care-of-an-injured).


	5. hard at work [SC]

Sam has been storming through the hallways of L-Corp’s executive floor so much that by now, Lena’s assistant and bodyguard know better than to even try to stop and question her. She pushes the door open with one hand, the other already extended with the tablet, ready to offer all pertinent information.

“Lena, there’s something at the Metropolis branch that I really need you to look into–,” she starts, but the sight of her boss makes her come to a screeching halt. 

Lena Luthor, CEO extraordinaire, is hovering six feet above ground in Supergirl’s arms. _That_ sight in itself is not entirely alien to Sam’s eyes: she’s had the misfortune of walking in on Lena and her super-girlfriend one too many times by now. But Lena confidently waltzing through the air with the Girl of Steel, head thrown back in gleeful laughter, her hair floating after her with the exuberant speed of her movement just like Supergirl’s cape? That’s something entirely new.

It takes considerable composurefor Sam not to let her jaw or her tablet drop to the floor. Instead, she crosses her arms, staring up at her boss and beloved friend with a grin.

“I’m sorry, bad time?”

Lena lets Supergirl spin her around once more before she extricates herself from her embrace and floats over to Sam, slowly touching down.

“Oh, we were only testing a new gadget,” she explains, still beaming. Her cheeks are flushed, her shirt just a little rumpled, and Sam cannot help but smile, too, because it _is_ incredible to see Lena so thoroughly, unquestionably happy. Supergirl waves _hi_ to her, still hovering by Lena’s desk, and Sam returns the greeting while smothering the urge to roll her eyes at the flex of it all.

“Sorry to have to bring you down to Earth,” she says, handing Lena the tablet. “Ted Kord is trying to poach half of R&D in Metropolis and there’s an issue with the production of the next-gen image inducers.”

Lena takes it all in with a small nod, unflinching. She smooths her skirt down, stands up a little straighter, and _carefree Lena_ gives place to _Lena fucking Luthor_ in a blink of an eye.

“You say the sweetest things,” she deadpans, then, with an apologetic frown, she turns back to Supergirl. “Duty calls, darling.”

Supergirl only nods in turn, then speeds through the air to Lena’s side, cupping her face and pressing a small kiss to her lips.

“Knock ‘em dead, babe,” she murmurs, and Sam can see Lena practically melting, eyes fluttering shut as Supergirl runs a thumb across her cheek. Then, they break apart, and Supergirl gives her another wave and a little wink before speeding out the balcony door, the words trailing behind: “See you at game night, Sam!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/629514941239541760/angry-business-exec-storming-into-lenas-office-to).


	6. post-Crisis pretense [SC]

Lena’s holding her champagne flute so tightly that Kara’s surprised the glass hasn’t shattered to pieces between her fingers yet.

It’s their third event that month, the third time they’ve had to go out and pretend to be the best of friends, accept all toasts and jokes and knowing grins as gracefully as possible, their own smiles just a bit too bright and wide. The third time they’ve posed for photos together, standing side by side, and Kara had to watch Lena shift her posture just enough to put that precious millimetre of distance between them so that even their shoulders wouldn’t touch.

It hurts.

It’s a persistent, dull ache in her chest, between her ribs. It’s the memories of happier times, of every previous gala and award ceremony she’s accompanied Lena to, every time Kara stood by her side and watched Lena clasp her hands together and bite her lip, those nervous little motions anticipating every time her name would be announced. It’s the memories of Lena laughing and grasping Kara’s forearm, body buzzing with happiness, when her name would be greeted with thunderous applause, not spat out like foul poison. Those images, etched onto Kara’s mind, are now overlaid this new vision of Lena: stern, frosty, pale and solemn like a statue, the forced smile melting away from her face the second she can give up playing their charade.

Kara shouldn’t care. She should be hurt on her own right, furious, distant, whichever comes first. She hurt Lena, and Lena hurt her right back, deeply and savagely, enough for them to consider it even and call it quits. But the reality is that in that very moment, sitting in that gaudy hall by Lena’s side, wearing that off-the-shoulder cape with her _ceremonial suit_ (one of the new realities of their new worlds that Kara hasn’t quite gotten used to) and looking as heroic as one can be, Kara’d give fifty years of her life just to be able to hold Lena’s hand and see her _real_ smile again.

“And the recipient of this year’s award is… Lena Luthor!”

That tight, polished smile is already on Lena’s face as she stands, incredibly poised ever. Kara rises, too, without quite knowing why, hands raised in applause much like anyone else’s, and then, disaster strikes.

Later, Kara tells her that it must’ve been the light playing tricks, or her own wishful thinking after an evening of feeling sadder than usual. But in the moment, all she sees is a curious little twinkle in Lena’s eyes, something so reminiscent of that endeared look she used to give Kara, her lips twisting into a smile _just_ slightly warmer.

It’s enough for Kara to throw caution to the wind, to reach out and wrap her arms around Lena and draw her into a tight, desperate hug.

For one single, marvellous moment, Lena lets her.

For one heartbeat that Kara wishes she could make her eternity, Lena melts against her, warm and impossibly soft, the scent of her perfume filling Kara’s lungs, her bared shoulders trembling under Kara’s hands. It’s like a dream. It’s _perfect_.

It takes for long, long seconds to go by for Kara to shake her bliss and realize that Lena has not returned her hug. Instead, she stands stiff, one arm awkwardly hanging by her side while the other one is trapped between their bodies, hand clawing against the bright, hard _S_ on Kara’s chest.

A gust of Arctic wind could not be more chilling. Kara lets go of her immediately, feeling her face heat up, stepping back so hastily that she almost trips on her cape. She tries to stammer out an apology, an _I didn’t mean to_ and an _I really just hoped we might be okay like that again_ , but Lena doesn’t let her get out a single word. She’s leans in, smile so cold and severe that it almost distracts Kara from the misty shimmer of her eyes, and grits out between her teeth:

“Don’t you ever dare do that again.”

She turns and strides toward the stage without missing a beat, in command of the room again, to the continued applause of the crowd around them. Kara slumps back into her chair, numb, vanquished. Somewhere, in the infinite distance, Lena takes her award and begins her speech, and Kara can only stare at the tablecloth in front of her, clenching her jaw and blinking hard. 

No-one should have the opportunity to snap a photo of Supergirl dejectedly crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/627090121873817600/just-thinking-about-your-s5-post-just-now-kara).


	7. scars [SC]

Lena drags the pad of her index finger over the corded, bumpy line of tissue across Kara’s cheek and down to her jaw again and again, a slow and methodical caress. Even through half-lidded eyes, Kara can see the mesmerized look in her face.

“Very curious,” Lena whispers. She gently tips Kara’s head so that the bedside lamp sheds a better light at the scar, and Kara lets her, pressing up into her touch. “It’s a shame you destroyed that axe, darling, I would have loved to take a look at it.”

Kara smiles.

“I was busy trying to avoid getting my head cleaved in half, babe.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Lena leans forward, pressing a kiss to Kara’s cheek. Her lips feel ticklish against the cut, like a summer breeze. “It might’ve helped understand this regeneration issue. Would made updating the defense systems of your suit easier, too.”

“But then you wouldn’t get to be drooling over the consequences,” Kara teases, then shifts in the bed, wrapping an arm around Lena and drawing her back on top of herself, grinning at Lena’s indignant yelp. “Never knew you had a thing for scars.”

Lena draws her hand back from Kara’s face as if it was burnt, staring down at her with a scandallized frown, the kind that’s known to appear on her face when she gets flustered, when Kara’s teasing hits the mark _just right_ and Lena’s not yet willing to admit it.

“I don’t have a _thing_ –!” She protests, and Kara laughs, delighted, catching Lena’s hand and drawing it back to her lips.

“You have not stopped touching it since I got out of the sun bed and you saw it on my face.”

Face now beet red, Lena smacks her shoulder, huffing. She certainly cannot deny it: the terror on her face upon of seeing Kara with an unhealed wound for the first time morphed into clear, clinical interest within an hour spent at the Tower’s med bay, and then, once they got back to their apartment and she tugged Kara towards the bedroom, something else entirely. It’s been a curious reaction, but certainly not unwelcome.

“I was worried, you oaf,” Lena rolls her eyes with an adorable little pout, and Kara feels the burning need to lean up and kiss it off her lips. She only manages to press her lips to Lena’s jaw.

“And now you’re just horny,” she teases, running her hand over Lena’s shoulder and down on her back, stroking gently until she feels her wife relaxing in her arms. She can’t quite keep herself from one more joke, though. “Did you always have the hots for the bad guys in the swashbuckler movies too?”

Lena drops her head down to Kara’s shoulder, hiding her face with a groan.

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“Hey now.” Kara brings her hand back to Lena’s jaw, cupping her chin and pressing gently until Lena lifts her head again and Kara gets to smile at her, bursting with affection. “I’m glad you still love all of me.”

This time, Lena’s the one to lean forward for a kiss, sighing softly as their lips meet. She presses her forehead against Kara’s when they part, hands coming up to cradle Kara’s face, gently stroking her cheeks as she murmurs against her lips:

“How could I not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/629952989988323329/kara-getting-a-sexy-kryptonian-face-scar-and).


	8. dropping by [SC]

When Kara pops into Lena’s office on a surprise visit, she takes half the balcony, the glass paneling, and a good chunk of the office walls with her. **  
**

It’s one of those reasonable dangers of dating Supergirl, Lena supposes, flicking the debris off her desk and her now-dusty sleeves nonchalantly. Sometimes, your girlfriend will come through your front door, smiling and gushing and bearing snacks and bouquets like a normal, everyday person. Other days, she’ll be thrown through the walls by a rampaging alien like an errant baseball through the library window.

(Lena’s not gonna _complain_ , though. Kara is the light of her life, the most extraordinary thing ever to happen to her in her twenty-seven years of existence. The mild annoyance of having to rebuild an office every other week pales in comparison to the joy of loving Kara.)

“Everything okay, darling?” Lena inquires gently. 

A thumb pops through the ruins of what once was the wall separating the office from the hallway, held defiantly upright, and Lena cannot help but chuckle. Then, the pile of debris shakes and scatters, and Kara climbs to her feet with a groan. Her suit is all dusty, Lena notes, but she seems fine otherwise, save for the disgruntled pout on her lips and the crinkle between her eyebrows, and Lena itches to smooth the annoyed wrinkles out, to kiss that vexed expression away.

“That Maaldorian’s got a _mean_ right hook,” Kara complains, spinning once to dust herself off then speeding over to Lena’s desk. She bends forward a little, picking a piece of the wall out of Lena’s hair. “Fights dirty, too.”

Kara’s hand lingers on her cheek, cupping her face gently, and Lena covers it with her own hand, pressing a kiss into her palm. 

“Poor baby,” she coos, smiling up at Kara, her thumb rubbing the back of her hand. “Anything you’d like me to kiss better?”

A couple of months ago, Kara would have blushed and sputtered at that, probably breaking whatever she was holding in her hands too. She still blushes a little, but there’s a playful spark in her eyes, too, a lopsided grin on her lips as she leans even closer and whispers: **  
**

“I’ll make do with a good luck kiss for now.”

Lena giggles and reaches up to gather a fistful of Kara’s cape in her hands, tugging her close.

“Come here, Supergirl.”

It’s only a little peck, first, a soft, barely tangible touch of Kara’s lips against her own. It’s what the situation merits: there’s still some opponent that Supergirl needs to subdue, Alex probably already yelling in her earpiece to do so. But then, they pull apart and Kara sighs a little and Lena sees the tender look in her eyes and the faint smudge of lipstick on her still-parted lips, and she surges up with her entire body to kiss her again.

Kara lets her. She meets Lena with the same enthusiasm, arms wrapping around her waist as Lena sinks her hands into Kara’s hair, her kiss open and deep and hungry with desire, as if they haven’t seen each other in months. It makes Lena melt against her, turn into putty in Kara’s arms, blushed and breathless by the time they part again.

“Duty calls,” Kara murmurs, gently disentangling herself from Lena’s arms, and Lena almost whines in her displeasure until her gaze falls to Kara’s lips. Her mouth twists into a smug grin too, then: unlike the Maaldorian’s punches, Lena has left quite the mark, one that she’s more than content to let Kara go with. She nods and steps back a little, straightening her skirt.

“Dinner at eight, don’t forget,” she says, leaning forward for one last peck before she gently pushes Kara’s shoulder. “Up, up, and away.”

(Later, Jess finds her boss leaning against her desk with a giddy smile and scandalously smudged lipstick, seemingly unconcerned with the giant hole in a wall behind her, and entirely engrossed in the TV report on Supergirl’s latest fight instead. **  
**

There’s something uncanny about seeing Lena Luthor watch raptly as the cameras zoom in on the dark red smears across Supergirl’s lips and _giggle_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/631062077690249216/inspired-by-amar-karazrels-impeccable-tweet).


	9. unresolved tensions [SC]

Kara’s not sure who pushes whom first, who tugs on the other’s shirt, who leans in for the first kiss, sloppy, off-center, and desperately hungry. But the matter is this: the door of the supply closet is clicked shut behind them and they’re _kissing_ , Kara pushing Lena up against the nearest surface and Lena letting her, gasping into her mouth and arching up against her in turn, pliant and needy. It’s so unlike the cool, firm attitude from just a minute ago that Kara feels a surge of pride at the fact that she’s able to unravel her like this. **  
**

She almost feels the impish urge to draw back and ask whether this is _unacceptable behaviour for an employee_ , too. Then Lena pants her name and nips at her bottom lip, and Kara’s full attention is focused right back on her best friend and displeased boss tugging on her shirt collar and grabbing a handful of her ass.

She drinks in every minute detail of it, the softness of Lena’s lips against hers, the way her fingers scrape against Kara’s shoulder, the scented cloud of some flowery perfume and sweat and the lingering remains of her shampoo that wraps itself around Kara along with her body. The way her heart is fluttering like a little bird’s, every beat of it a thunderclap in Kara’s ears, the breathy little moan that leaves her lips when they shift and Kara presses a thigh between her legs. It’s enchanting, mesmerizing, a moment in time that Kara wishes she could stay in forever.

It’s perfect. 

It’s terrible. 

It’s decidedly _not_ how Kara ever imagined their first kiss would go, when she dared to imagine that they’d _have_ a first kiss to begin with. It’s not how she ever wanted it to happen, high-strung and snarling and tucked away in a storage room at work like some forbidden office fling.

But this is the closest she’s felt to normalcy in _months_. It makes her feel tethered, somehow, in some strange way, to have a conflict so simple, straightforward, and _ordinary_ , to hear Lena reprimand her in that soft yet so unyielding voice **.** Because Supergirl might not be able to catch a simple bank robber, let alone protect a fellow alien that she vowed to look after as her ward, but _Kara_ can make Lena Luthor flushed and kiss her breathless, and that should be enough. 

It has to be.

“Kara?” Lena draws back abruptly: the loss of her warmth feels like an acute stab of pain. “Are you okay?” **  
**

She registers the worry in Lena’s voice abstractly: she can only focus on the sight of her, the blushing cheeks, the smeared lipstick, the wisps of hair that have escaped the no longer neat hairdo. It spurs Kara on to chase Lena’s lips again, to seek the comfort of her touch against the ache already rising in her chest.

“Yeah, absolutely, all fine here” she blurts out in one breath, leaning in, but this time, she’s firmly stopped by Lena’s hand pressing against her chest.

“Darling.” Lena cups her face so gently as if she was afraid that Kara might break at her very touch. “You’re _crying_.”

“I’m _not_!” Kara protests. Lena’s thumbs stroke along her cheeks and she can feel the wetness they drag along, the shame and anger and guilt she’s tried to keep buried rising to the surface with it, shaking her shoulders. “I–”

Lena’s arms are already wrapped around her before the first sob could even escape her lips, holding Kara, tender and resolute, one hand cradling the back of her head, and Kara finally lets herself unravel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/633708882621071360/battenthecrosshatches-narraboths-lenas-3x02) (with some additional [incredible art by BTC!](https://battenthecrosshatches.tumblr.com/post/634022013519937536/narraboths-battenthecrosshatches-narraboths)).


	10. a quiet moment [SC]

“We should be getting back to the Tower.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll have to defuse all these damn gadgets with Brainy _and_ figure out something to put in a press release about why an L-Corp facility is now all over the Mojave Desert in _chunks_.”

“Yeah.”

“And you really need to get Alex to look at your arm because even _I_ could hear that crack.”

“Baby.” Kara raises her still-unhurt arm, reaching out towards Lena with a smile and Lena takes it without thinking, lets Kara tug her gently down to sit by her side as if this was just the end of a hike and not the aftermath of a gruelling three-hour fight. Every motion feels instinctive then, a cozy familiarity: Kara wrapping her arm around Lena’s shoulder, Lena tucking herself tightly against Kara’s side. She reaches up, brushing a few sweaty, errant curls from Kara’s face, and revels in the radiant smile that lights up Kara’s face at her touch.

“You were really amazing today,” Lena murmurs. She lets her hand wander, stroking Kara’s cheek, her jaw, feeling the thrum of Kara’s body under her fingertips.

“So were you.” Kara’s practically beaming with pride. She leans down to press a kiss to Lena’s temple, gently squeezing her shoulder, and her lips twist into a roguish smile. “We make a good team, Mrs Danvers.”

Lena feels herself blush, her heart fluttering: the effect her wife never fails to make on her, even when they’re both worn and battered after hours of combat, and dusty from head to toe. _Especially_ then. It’s only the testament of her love for Kara, as vast and infinite as the great expanse spreading out below them.

“I think so too, Mrs Luthor,” she whispers back, then lays her head on Kara’s shoulder.

“You don’t want to get going?” Kara asks, and Lena only reaches up to take her hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“We can stay for a little while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/634595180749684736/kara-i-doubt-the-world-will-end-if-we-just-sit).


	11. PDA problems [SC]

When they enter the Tower, Alex is pacing around the main hall with such heavy steps that Kara wouldn’t be surprised to find she’s already managed to bear her trail into the wooden floorboards. Her sister looks worryingly worn and morose, her heartbeat erratic as she waves them over to her desk.

“We have a problem,” she states gravely. She leans forward, palms resting on the desk as if she was bracing herself, and Kara’s brain goes into overdrive.

“Is it Cadmus? Darkseid? The Dominators?” She’s rocking back and forth on her feet, adrenaline coursing through her body. Her eyes light up for a second. “Do I get to fight a dragon again?”

Alex shakes her head with a heavy look and Kara deflates a little. Lena, however, picks up right where she left off.

“If it’s my mother, I swear to God,” she huffs, and Kara forgets her eyes on the adorable little blush on her cheeks, the angry snarl of her lips. The tension in her body melts away in an instant, and despite the situation, Kara can feel a smile tugging on her lips as Lena presses on. “That woman can’t even leave us in peace when she’s on the run–”

“No, no, none of those things,” Alex cuts her off. She gives an inexplicably vehement side-eye to Kara before she’d flip her tablet open and push it in front of them. “It’s you,” she declares, crossing her arms. “Both of you.”

They both stare at her in confused silence, then look down at the tablet at the same time, to be greeted by the loud, garish headline, fittingly typed in bright red: 

_Super-Pals? Supergirl and Lena Luthor Getting Cozy at Charity Event._

There are photos, of course, of things that Kara would swear are only cozy, good-natured moments of _fun_ between two friends who like to save the world together. Lena is leaning up to whisper something in Supergirl’s ear in one (definitely 100% work-related, Kara could vouch for it), with Supergirl’s hand resting on the small of her back in turn. Alex lets them mull over it, then scrolls down, wordless, to another segment of the same article. _Trouble Seeing Eye To Eye?_ it asks, cheeky, accompanied by photos of the two of them talking, Supergirl’s eyeline clearly not on Lena’s face. Kara blushes.

“It’s just a gossip rag, you know this,” she says, not entirely managing to hit the dismayed tone she was aiming for. Beside her, Lena shifts on her feet and crosses her arms, like she tends to when she gets defensive. “They’ll do anything to drive up their numbers.”

“Yeah, sure,” Alex rolls her eyes, then flicks to a new tab. “Daily Tribune, last week.” A photo of Lena gently wiping the soot from Supergirl’s face after a press conference fiasco. Alex switches tabs again. “National City Gazette, _How To Catch A Super_.”

“As if I’m some sultry seductress,” Lena scoffs. There’s a little blush on her face again, and in spite of the scornful tone, there’s an impossibly fond look in her eyes as she takes in the photo below the headline: her cradled in Supergirl’s arms, one hand pressed against bright red S with Supergirl’s hand laid atop hers, their fingers interlocked. Under the desk and out of sight, Kara reaches out to link their fingers together, and Lena’s hand meets hers halfway through. They lean closer as their hands intertwine, their shoulders brushing together, and Kara won’t even try to smother her giddy smile as Alex carries on.

“Daily fucking Planet, _Supergirl and Lena Luthor: A Timeline of a Relationship_.” She slams the tablet’s cover shut with a huff. “Brainy has a whole batch of them, and he surveys more social media accounts than I’d ever have liked to know about, too. So, care to explain?”

Kara takes a deep breath.

“We’re just friendly!” She complains, exasperated. “You can’t expect me to act like I don’t know her!”

“We are long-time partners in making the world a better place, after all,” Lena adds. Alex raises an eyebrow.

“And you act like you’re long-time partners in _marriage_.”

The only reason why Kara doesn’t cross her arms, scandalized and irate, is because the gentle, comforting warmth of Lena’s hand wrapped around her own is too nice a sensation to end just for _this_. She makes do with an angry stare instead.

“Do you have a _problem_ with that or something?”

“Are you asking me if I hate Lena or if I’m homophobic?” It’s the first time a smile appears on Alex’s face during their conversation, albeit a very tired one. Her tone turns softer then. “You realize that if people think Supergirl and Lena are involved with each other beyond a simple partnership, there’s gonna be a bigger target on her back than there already is, don’t you? That whoever would try to harm or abduct any associate of Supergirl’s would go at _her_ first. Is that what you want, Kara?”

“No, of course not,” Kara mumbles, ducking her head. Lena doesn’t interject, either, only squeezes Kara’s hand in support and Alex must clearly take her silence as agreement. She draws herself up and clears her throat.

“I would like both of you to pay more attention to acting more _professional_ in public for your own sakes,” she declares, in the _Director Danvers_ tone. Her face is so strained that Kara has to hold back a giggle.

“Understood,” she quickly says before she’d ruin it, and Lena nods along.

“Loud and clear.”

“Great.” The tension in Alex’s shoulders visibly eases. She snatches up the tablet and starts towards the door. “See you both at game night.”

Kara waits until her footsteps die down in the hallway before she’d slump against the desk.

“We are so bad at this,” she whines, tugging on Lena’s hand, and Lena laughs, letting herself fall into Kara’s arms, tucked against Kara’s chest. She leans up, kissing the pout off of Kara’s lips, her free hand cupping Kara’s cheek, gently stroking along the line of her jaw when they part. Her eyes sparkle, happy, mischievous, and Kara can feel her heart growing three sizes in her chest. It’d be worth it to endure millennia of dressing-downs from her sister just to see Lena looking at her with such love.

“I don’t think today’s the day to break it to her, darling,” Lena whispers, nipping at Kara’s lips.

“No,” Kara agrees, pressing their foreheads together with a sigh. “I’m gonna make that photo from the Gazette my screensaver though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/631792105257385985/i-really-like-the-idea-that-whenever-supergirl-and).


	12. professional relations [SC]

The thought that she hasn’t really seen Lena Luthor in person ever since that conference hits her with a dizzying force. For the past six months, they’ve communicated remotely, facelessly, and only through the most formal means. Now, her _academic adversary_ is just _there_ , in a fucking three-piece suit with a sinfully unbuttoned blouse, cradling a glass of whiskey and staring up at Kara with a quizzical look that somehow manages to make her feel weak in the knees.

“A sight for sore eyes, Professor Danvers,” she says in lieu of a greeting, and for a second, Kara wonders if she could have gotten drunk from two sips of a very mild rosé, because Lena Luthor sounds like she _means_ that.

“Really?” The word comes out as a half-stutter and Kara squares her shoulders and puffs her chest a bit to balance it out. “Is it just because you can actually rip into my choice of wine unlike Dean Grant’s or something?”

“Of course not,” Lena waves her hand, downright amused. “I _am_ glad to see you outside of our sparring for once. Yours is a deliciously sharp mind, even if somewhat misguided in its application.”

The last little jab helps to cool the burning of Kara’s cheeks somewhat, the nervous smile on her lips growing ever more wry.

“Oh, there she is.”

She’s rewarded with a little eye-roll in turn.

“Your writing is very powerful, but it only masks shoddy methodology and an overly passionate approach to your research.” Lena takes a sip from her glass, eyeing Kara over the rim. “It was only fair criticism.”

“There is no good research without passion,” Kara responds, drawing herself up: the posture and the earnest tone come as instinctively as breathing this time. “I’d expect even a scientist with such a clinical mind to understand that.”

The riposte seems to only delight Lena.

“I temper my passions, professor,” she says, shifting on her feet, her lips slowly curling into a smirk, one eyebrow raised with its usual devastating impact. “I think you just need a firmer hand to help you learn some discipline.”

The wine glass in Kara’s hand is snapped clean in half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/634170052823941120/awkward-flirting-and-foreplay-academia-style).


	13. silly love songs [SC]

There’s nothing _sexy_ about love duets.

It’s a mechanic, rehearsed series of gestures, a faked projection of romance to an audience of one to three thousand people. It’s a mental checklist where Lena has to make sure that she’s reached every step just as she has to meet the conductor’s cues, _arm around their shoulder, touching their cheek, pressing your faces together_. There’s no actual romance about it, much less any frisson, not in the usual awkward side-hugging with a tenor, nor in the occasional straddling someone in a latex dress.

(Especially not _then_ , really. The sweating under the stage lights alone is enough to kill any sort of spark.)

But there is definitely something about having Kara Danvers kneel before her, hands fervently pressing clutching Lena’s own, pleading for her love.

It makes her _forget_ , for one. Lena doesn’t lose herself in her roles: she prides herself on rigorously maintaining a clinical distance from all her roles as she brings all their torrentuous emotions to life onstage. But Kara’s sweeping all that away in a single, effortless blow. 

It leaves Lena with nothing but a flushed face and a strange kind of warmth spreading in her chest. It leaves her with a deliriously empty head, devoid of any list of empty motions to mime. When Kara rises and leans over her in all her dashing might, the yearning, lovesick look in those ridiculously blue eyes all but _searing_ , laying back, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and dragging her down to the bed all seem to come to Lena as naturally as breathing.

And just like that, Kara Danvers is on top of her.

They’re still singing, as two consummate professionals deeply invested in their craft should. Lena’s mouth moves on autopilot while her mind wanders: she can only concentrate on the ticklish feeling of Kara’s breath against her cheek, the sight of her baby hairs sticking to her temple, the muscles in her shoulders straining deliciously under Lena’s arm. She tightens her hold a little.

“Not crushing you, am I?” Kara whispers to her, concerned, and Lena’s so absorbed in her thoughts about the sheer core strength it must take for her scene partner to plank over her body that she almost misses half her run.

“You’re fine,” she mouths back. Kara grins with mischievous delight.

“Thanks,” she winks. It profoundly messes with the impact of her Romeo’s heartfelt plea for _their love_ , though Lena’s responding eyeroll is probably hardly worthy of Giulietta, either. They don’t have long to mess up their duet, though: Kara’s already leaning in, one hand gently cupping Lena’s face, and Lena’s grateful that they are no longer singing because she’s not sure she could get another word out even if she tried.

Kara’s lips are only pressed against Lena’s cheek in the usual extremely fake stage kiss for sixteen seconds. Lena counts every last one of them. Then Kara rolls off of her and looks up and J’onn starts talking, the words _very nice, but a couple of things, Kara_ buzzing meaninglessly in Lena’s ear. Her hand is pressed against her cheek, her fingers trailing the still-tingling spot, dazed, as if she had been scorched by the mere touch of Kara’s lips.

Then her eyes flicker up to meet Kara’s own, her unruly heart speeding up as Kara beams at her, and Lena finds that she has, indeed, been just burnt by the most dangerous flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/636253334749249536/with-thanks-to-ekingston-for-rerouting-my-entire).


	14. a happy season [SC]

Lena loves the fall.

It’s not because of the crunchy leaves or the explosion of colors as the trees turn from green to yellow and red and orange, nor is it due to any fondness for the closeness of Halloween.

She does _appreciate_ all of that, sure, just as she appreciates the cooler temperatures instead of the sweltering summer heat, even if her hands tend to get cold in the autumnal chill. (That part’s quickly remedied by complaining to Kara whenever possible and enjoying the warmth of her girlfriend’s strong hands gently wrapping around her own in turn.) But the reason why she loves the fall – has _grown_ to love it, rather, is thanks to something much more simple; a smaller, yet infinitely more delightful facet of her life.

It’s Kara’s autumn wardrobe.

Lena delights in any and all of Kara’s clothes, of course: the crisp dress shirts and goofy-patterned ties at the office, the tightly-fitted majesty of the supersuit, the soft cardigans and comfy joggers at home. (And her birthday suit, too, as Lena likes to quip, just to watch Kara blush and sputter.) There isn’t an article of clothing in her closet that wouldn’t send Lena’s heart racing.

But there is something special about the tweeds and wool suits and impossibly soft jumpers Kara starts donning come September, something about how cozy and warm Kara looks while cutting just as handsome a figure as ever. There’s something that Lena just _likes_ about the material of her suits proving ever so scratchy against her cheeks when they hug and Lena presses her face against Kara’s shoulder, the comforting warmth of Kara’s own body combined with her cable-knit sweaters when Lena sneaks her hands underneath them. It’s so impossibly, unquestionably _Kara_.

–

She looks as incredibly snuggly as ever now, in a brown suit and beige sweater, her cheeks ruddy and her close-cropped locks ever so slightly wind-swept; altogether dreamy. They’ve been strolling for half an hour before, slowly, huddled together, enjoying each other’s company in a gentle, contented silence that Lena never thought she’d make her own. But Kara works miracles. 

Though it’s a clear, sunny day, the air is crisp, and Kara has been only happy to let Lena snuggle up to her on a bench, wrapping an arm tightly around her girlfriend’s shoulders to hold her close, while her other hand is cradling some pumpkin drink monstrosity. Lena rests her head on Kara’s shoulder, the scent of dry leaves and cold air mixing in her nose with Kara’s cologne, familiar, comforting. Kara watches the park around them, and Lena finds her gaze stuck on Kara’s face in turn, regarding her as Kara follows the flight of birds over the pond, drinking in the little smile that plays on Kara’s lips every time a dog passes them by. It makes Lena smile too, bright and sappy, makes a warmth spread through her chest as if she drank mulled wine. 

It’s perfect.

“Your nose is turning red,” Kara suddenly says, turning her eyes back to Lena and raising a hand to stroke Lena’s cheek. She’s smiling, too, and Lena’s heart only beats faster. “You know I can fly us back to our apartment in a second.”

“I’m not cold,” Lena protests. She tucks her head down, against Kara’s chest, burrowing closer into the smooth wool of her sweater and Kara chuckles, pressing a kiss to the crown of Lena’s head.

“Is that why you’re snuggling me like I’m your personal heater?”

“You _are_ my personal heater,” Lena mumbles into her chest, then raises her head again. Kara’s staring down at her with a fond smile, looking so impossibly handsome that Lena forgets whatever clever thing she was going to say.“One might even say you’re _super_ -hot.”

Kara bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God, that was terrible,” she groans, her shoulders shaking, and leans forward to kiss the tip of Lena’s nose. “How long have you been working on that, baby?”

“Are you saying my lines don’t work on you, Miss Danvers?” Lena retorts, raising an eyebrow as she finds her footing again. Kara only grins, falling into their well-practiced rhythm with ease.

“I don’t know,” she pretends to muse, her thumb stroking along the line of Lena’s jaw. “Maybe we could go home, you could try some more, and see where it goes.”

Lena hums, reaching out to fiddle with the lapels of Kara’s jacket, feigning a long, thorough consideration while Kara’s smile grows only ever wider.

“Well,” she finally sighs and nips at Kara’s bottom lip, meeting Kara’s yelp of surprise with a smirk of her own. “If you _insist_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/630906213827330048/sir-your-autumn-kara-luks-on-the-tweeters-slaps).


	15. anniversary [SC]

“Ten years and you still haven’t managed to find anything to tame this unruly curl of yours.”

The corners of Lena’s mouth bend downwards in a fond smile as she eyes the offending curl, and Kara returns the smile, bending her head down a little in anticipation of Lena’s next move even before she’d raise her hand to brush the errant curl away.

Lena’s hand lingers, then, fingers threading through Kara’s hair with a gentle caress, mussing the neatly combed locks up just a little. She lets out a little laugh when Kara presses into her touch like a cat, scratching at the close-cropped hair at the back of her head in turn before she’d drop her hand to Kara’s shoulder again. Kara follows its route, turning her head to press a kiss to the back of Lena’s hand.

“Maybe I just like it when you inevitably feel the need to run your hand through my hair as you pretend to tidy it up,” she says with a goofy grin, and Lena raises an eyebrow in response.

“Is that so.” 

Her tone is endeared as ever, dancing in a pattern as familiar as they are now tracing in each other’s arms. Kara nods, very solemn for a moment.

“But I like it even more when I tease you and you tease me right back,” she says, her lips twisting into a smile again, cheeky enough that Lena rolls her eyes at the very sight of it. “And you lean in for a kiss right after.”

“Oh, well,” Lena sighs, and sinks her hand into Kara’s hair again, gripping with _just_ enough firmness this time. “Wouldn’t want to break a good tradition.” 

They’re both smiling wide when their lips meet, giggling more than kissing before Kara finally tilts her head and draws Lena close and kisses her in earnest. Lena melts against her then, happy to let Kara take the lead, to swallow the little moan that rises at the back of her throat, to kiss her slowly, gently, and so thoroughly that both of them are gasping for air when they finally break apart.

(They might have levitated for a couple of seconds in the middle of it, too. Kara wasn’t really paying attention.)

“Keep that up and people are going to start staring,” Lena whispers against Kara’s lips, pressing their foreheads together, and all Kara can pay attention to is the gloriously mussed-up state of Lena’s crimson lipstick, her wife’s still-hammering heartbeat echoing in her ears.

“Let them,” she murmurs back, stealing another peck. Lena giggles. “It’s our anniversary party, I’m allowed to kiss my wife breathless.”

Lena hums, regarding Kara through half-lidded eyes with the kind of look that sends Kara’s own heart thundering in her chest, then slowly slides her hand under Kara’s chin, gently tipping her head with two fingers, 

“You do make an _excellent_ point, darling.”

The photographer manages to capture just the moment when Kara dips Lena in the middle of the dance floor and presses another ardent kiss to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/630425646910291968/aron-just-think-there-is-a-parallel-universe-out).


	16. cuddles [SC]

They’re cuddled up on Kara’s couch, in their usual way of enjoying a quiet evening together: Lena’s curled up in Kara’s arms, pretending to read instead of just melting into the warm comfort of her girlfriend’s embrace, and Kara pretending to be busy with something other than staring enamoured at Lena.

Kara’s the first to challenge their status quo with a small, gentle kiss to the side of Lena’s head. It’s quickly followed by another kiss under Lena’s ear, then on the very edge of her jaw, then Kara buries her face into Lena’s neck with a little sight, and Lena knows exactly where _that_ kind of cuddling will lead. (Not that she ever _minds_. She just really likes the back-and-forth that inevitably precedes it every time.)

“You’re distracting me,” she warns. There’s no real bite to her tone, and Kara just hums into the crook of her neck in response, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“You’ve been staring at the same page for five minutes now.”

“Maybe it’s a challenging read.”

Kara moves up a bit, returning to the line of Lena’s jaw.

“It’s pulp fiction and you’ve memorized the _Aeneid_ in Latin.” She nips at Lena’s pulse point, teeth lightly grazing the skin and the laugh that was bubbling up on Lena’s lips turn breathy with it. 

“I was very invested in this story, I’ll have you know,” she murmurs as she tips her head back, letting it fall against Kara’s shoulder. 

The invitation is clear, but Kara doesn’t take it. Arms locked firmly around Lena’s waist, she returns to peppering light, fleeting kisses to the side of Lena’s cheek, her brows, her temple, until Lena squirms in her embrace.

“That _tickles_ ,” she laughs, breathless, her nose scrunching up as Kara kisses her again and again, deliberately missing her mouth every time. It’s not long until Lena reaches up to cup the back of Kara’s head, gathering a fistful of her hair, her tone turning low, needy. “Kiss me properly already.” 

She stares up at Kara, eyebrow raised, a pouty scowl perfectly in place, but even her pretend displeasure withers the second Lena sees the wide, sappy smile on Kara’s face.

“Hey,” Kara whispers, leaning forward to place a kiss at the corner of Lena’s mouth, and despite her wish not being met, Lena _melts_ , as she always does, before even hearing Kara’s next words: “I love you.”

Lena closes her eyes and sighs, pressing her face against Kara’s own, and switches to Kryptonian, the words coming as natural as breathing:

“I love you too, darling.” 

Neither of them move for a long minute, delighting in the other’s presence, the tenderness of their embrace. Lena’s hand is still buried in Kara’s hair, gently carding it through the golden locks while Kara holds her tight, cradling Lena in her arms, her fingers stroking Lena’s sides.

But then Kara kisses Lena’s neck again, this time with clear intent, and Lena twists out of Kara’s embrace to turn and properly straddle her lap. She spots her book on the floor as she does, dropped thoughtlessly by the table.

“There goes my evening reading,” she waves, theatrical enough that Kara laughs as she lets her hands fall to Lena’s hips again, then licks her lips. She’s gazing up at Lena, bright-eyed and smiling, with such a heady mixture of adoration and desire that it makes Lena feel intoxicated.

“However could I make this up to you?” Kara inquires, the seriousness of her tone only offset by the roguish smile on her face. Lena can’t wait to kiss it off, to make Kara look flushed, slack-jawed and breathless.

“I can think of a few things,” she says slowly, wrapping her arms around Kara’s shoulders and pressing against her front, grinding down a little for good measure. She delights in the way Kara’s breath hitches for a moment, the way her eyes grow a bit darker and her grip on Lena’s hips turns a bit tighter. She leans down, bringing their faces just a little closer together. “Kiss me, first.”

This time, Kara does as she’s told without delay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/628344502828122112/i-am-thinking-of-kara-peppering-little-kisses).


	17. game night [SC]

“Hey, Kara.” Lena hovers over her with a smile, standing close enough that their knees are pressed together. “Is this seat taken?”

To the side Alex lets out a loud, pained groan, one that Kara’s learned to ignore by now. She tips her head back and grins up at Lena.

“Saved it just for you, babe.”

“My hero,” Lena whispers back, low and husky. It makes Kara’s head spin like a sip of champagne would on her non-powered days, settles a gentle buzz in her stomach that cannot be ruined even by the retching noise Alex is making. She reaches out, wraps her arms around Lena’s waist to draw her down, and Lena moves with her in perfect unison, climbs into her lap, hands braced against Kara’s shoulders as she straddles her.

“Comfortable?” Kara asks, and Lena stares down at her with that self-satisfied smirk, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Yes.” She leans forward and presses a small kiss to the tip of Kara’s nose before she’d shift, settling down in Kara’s lap, tucking herself into her arms. Kara loves this the most, the gentle weight of Lena in her lap,the way Lena’s hair tickles her cheek when she rests her head on Kara’s shoulder. The mix of perfume and sweat and chemicals from her lab wrapping around her that’s so entirely _Lena_. “Thank you, darling.”

Kara hums in response, still smiling wide. It’s all habitual now, rubbing her thumb in gentle circles over Lena’s hipbone once she’s settled in Kara’s embrace, fingers occasionally slipping under her blouse without even meaning to; and Lena carding her hand through Kara’s hair in turn, gently scratching at her scalp. They fit together this way like the pieces of a puzzle.

“So?” Kara looks around, remembering their surroundings after a good minute. She barely notices how everyone else is suddenly busy staring into their drinks. “Are we gonna play something?”

Alex glares at her.

“This little game called _hands where I can see them or I’m bringing out the water bottle_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/626959700693532672/lena-deserves-to-be-able-to-treat-karas-lap-as).


	18. the spoils of triumph (Victorian boxer AU) [SC]

Kara has the audacity to be _grinning_ when Lena shoves her down onto her bed and moves to straddle her in her shoddy, backwater flat at Whitechapel. The bedframe creaks dangerously under their weight, a sound that Lena is much too used to by now.

“If I knew you’d be so _enthused_ by my champion’s title, I would’ve taken on that Scouser months ago,” Kara says, propping herself up on her elbows. Beneath the shades of purple and black on her face, she looks entirely too pleased with herself: she reaches out with her unbandaged hand, gathering up a fistful of Lena’s skirt. “So, are you proud of me?”

Lena wants to dump a bucket of water over her head.

Instead, she reaches out, running her thumb over this newly bloodied map of Kara’s face: the cut in her upper lip, her right eyebrow, the bruise blooming on her jaw, her temple, her cheekbone. The testament to four almost-knock-outs, hits that have sent Kara limp against the floor or into the ropes, hits that she rose back up from again and again with a bloody smile and that dogged, unbearable stubbornness. She feels Kara leaning into her touch, humming contentedly even as she winces when Lena’s finger skates over a particularly sore spot.

“You are a damnable, intolerable fool,” Lena replies. She keeps her tone straightforward, matter-of-factly, with just a hint of the icy rage she’s feeling. It’s just enough to make Kara sit up looking confused and ever so slightly sheepish. “You can be happy you got out of that ring with your soul still tethered to your mortal body, or at least whatever still remains of it. Why can’t you ever just give up?”

“Because I knew I could get him,” Kara snaps back, sullen and defiant. They’ve had this fight before. There’s nothing new in it, except maybe the extent of Kara’s injuries, nothing that Lena could say that would make Kara give up her source of pride, joy, and considerable income, nothing Kara could do that would stop Lena from growing pale with worry every time she watches Kara step into the ring.

But Kara is in no mood to get into it this time. She exhales with a heavy huff, shaking her head, then looks up with a smile that even now makes Lena’s heart skip a beat. “And I love to see the way you get when I wink at you after a win.”

Lena rolls her eyes, unable to hide her own fond smile.

“Then you’ll be loving this too,” she says, slowly dragging her finger down the column of Kara’s neck, to her chest, till it presses against her sternum and Kara’s arching up against her hand. She pokes against the bone there, then withdraws her hand entirely. “I’m not touching you with a single finger until that cracked rib is healed.”

Kara stares at her with all the pain and disappointment of a puppy whose chew-toy was just taken away. She tilts her head and contemplates, brows furrowed.

“Can _I_ touch you with a single finger?” She finally inquires in a tone so innocent that Lena cannot hold back the laugh that accompanies her exasperated eyeroll.

“Shut up.” She stands and tugs on Kara’s shirt. “Scoot up, come on, let me clean you up properly. And I’m not letting you rot here,” she adds in a tone that allows for no dissent. “You’re coming home to Regent’s Park with me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kara obeys, grinning, then leans closer. “And _then_ we’ll do the thing?”

“Ask me in six to eight weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/626549372491022336/lena-leans-over-to-karas-ear-avoiding-the-blood).


	19. drunk on love [SC]

Kara’s _handsy_.

Actually, “handsy” itself doesn’t quite begin to describe what’s happening. Kara’s always very dedicated to convey her love through physical touch: a gentle stroke on the arm, a squeeze on the shoulder, a tight hug that makes one’s worries fly away as long as they are safely held in those Kryptonian arms. Now, after two weeks of hard work spent on moving any supervillain obstacles out of the wedding’s way and maybe two glasses of Aldebaran rum downed at the reception, it’s something else entirely. The already abundant displays of affection are starting to look more like Kara’s transformed into a two-armed octopus bent on gathering up every last person in the room for a fond embrace.

Lena’s already watched her lift James up in a bear-hug, heard Winn giggle and whine about his ribs, smothered a smile and maybe a little tear as Kara snatched up the newlyweds in her arms and spun over the dance floor with them, grinning wide, Alex beet red and Kelly’s head thrown back in laughter.

It really was only a matter of time till she would end up in Kara’s arms too.

Lena didn’t quite imagine that it’d go quite like _this_ , though. She can’t say she wasn’t angling for some PDA: Kara’s in a _tuxedo_ , for heaven’s sake, and the fact that she’s tugged her tie loose and unbuttoned her shirt to the very point of decency, with collarbones on full display? Lena’s only human. But when she draws near Kara’s chair, whispers _hello, darling_ and reaches out to smooth an errant curl behind her ear, she still doesn’t expect to find herself tucked into Kara’s lap in response. A short, surprised laugh bubbles to her lips: Kara’s arm is already wrapped around her waist, her lips pressing against the bare skin of Lena’s upper back.

“I missed you,” she murmurs, her words turning into a warm puff of air against Lena’s skin. It makes her shiver.

“I was only gone for ten minutes,” Lena whispers back. “And you were busy taking your sister and sister-in-law for a flight.”

“Okay,” Kara presses another kiss to her shoulder. “I still missed you.”

Though she cannot stifle a giggle, Lena rolls her eyes and twists around so that she can face her girlfriend.

“I’m here now.”

She’s met with a dopey smile and an adoring look, the kind that appears on Kara’s face when she watches Lena stumble around their apartment at 4 in the morning, rambling about her next experiment with her hair up in a messy bun and nothing but Kara’s shirt wrapped around her. The kind that’s the first thing Lena tends to see the moment their eyes meet once they finally neutralize a particularly tough enemy in the field. The kind that makes Lena weak in the knees, makes her stomach flutter like she’s a damn _teen_ , makes her forget about any and all grievances she might’ve had with Kara just a moment before. 

(It might as well qualify as another superpower in Kara’s arsenal.)

“Hi,” Kara breathes, her smile only growing ever wider because she _must_ know its effect too, and Lena doesn’t have the presence of mind for another eye-roll. She wraps an arm around Kara’s neck, bracing her hand against Kara’s sternum. Her lips tick up smugly when she feels the rapid beat of Kara’s heart under her palm.

“Don’t mess up my makeup, darling,” she warns, and Kara’s already leaning in for another kiss. It’s a gentle nip against Lena’s jaw, first, then she starts trailing lower, and Lena tips her head back instinctively, her eyes fluttering shut when Kara sucks on her pulse point.

“If you journey any more downward, Alex is going to get a gun out,” she murmurs and Kara chuckles against her throat.

“She’s not allowed to shoot me, this day is for the celebration of love.” She draws back and straightens up a little, looking earnestly scandallized by the very idea. “I’m just sticking to the programme.”

“I love you too.” There’s no teasing edge in Lena’s voice this time. Kara’s practically glowing. She tries to lean in again, but Lena presses a finger against her lips. “Let’s get out of here.”

(In retrospect, she should’ve specified “in a reasonably discreet fashion, without knocking over any pieces of furniture in our path in haste”. For the remainder of the night, however, it’s the very last thing on Lena’s mind.)


	20. old feelings, new beginnings [RC/SC]

Kara knows it’s Lena even before she opens the door: she’s picked up her heartbeat the second Lena stepped out of her car outside the building. She might have been sitting on her couch for a good fifteen minutes beforehand, chewing her lip and bouncing her leg, waiting to hear that distinctive thud appear, cherishing the way it’d slightly speed up before its beat would merge with the timid knock on her door.

She bolts through the room once it’s _there_ , throwing the door open so enthusiastically that the hinges creak with its force.

“Hey!”

“Hello, Kara.”

Lena’s _there_ , in a soft, slightly rumpled shirt and a pencil skirt under her overcoat, and a slightly tense smile on her face, looking like a vision from three years ago when she first started coming around for game nights. 

They don’t hug. Kara keeps one hand shoved awkwardly in her pocket, with the other gripping the door all too tightly, while Lena’s hands remain wrapped around the strap of her bag. It’s only the fourth time Lena’s come around since they agreed that they both wanted things to be better between them, to be _okay_ again. But the road to _okay_ seems to start at _painfully awkward_ and _no close contact yet_.

This time, though, Lena lingers in the hallway for a confusingly long time, even after Kara’s stepped aside from the doorway.

“Won’t you come in?”

“Just a second,” Lena says, apologetic. “I brought someone, since you said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, sure, no problem!” Kara tries not to act like her ears all perked up at the thought of Lena having a _someone_. A _bring-them-around-to-meet-all-of-my-ex-friends_ someone. She looks around the empty hallway instead, puzzled. “Did they get lost, or–?”

Lena shakes her head and looks down on her watch.

“She should be here by now,” she murmurs, exasperated, and Kara doesn’t have any time to process the _she_ in that sentence. As if on queue, a familiar black cloud of smoke forms in the shadow of the hallway, and the next second, in a twist of some of Kara’s more elaborate nightmares, Andrea Rojas is striding towards them.

Kara’s sure her mouth is hanging open.

The brazen display of her powers is one thing. She can forgive that. But then Andrea walks up to Lena and wraps an arm around her waist, and Kara can already feel a chill running down her spine even before she sees Andrea dip her head down to capture Lena’s lips. 

And Lena _lets_ her, smiling, leaning into Andrea and humming contently against her lips, a minute detail that Kara cannot shut out even as she awkwardly stares at her shoes. 

“There you are,” Lena finally murmurs, and Kara deems it safe to look up again, just in time to catch Andrea gently swiping her thumb under Lena’s bottom lip, wiping a smudge of lipstick away. “Show-off.”

“I know you like it, baby,” Andrea grins. Lena rolls her eyes, but burrows closer to her, and then, only then, does Andrea finally turn her eyes to Kara. Kara’s not sure if she’s only hallucinating the entirely too smug look on her face. “Good evening, Kara. Thank you for having us over.”

There’s a bottle of wine in her right hand as she extends it towards Kara, and Kara has to pay more attention than usual not to shatter it in her grip as she takes it.

“Of course,” she smiles weakly and steps aside, her face feeling so heated as if she already downed a bottle of wine. “Come on in!”

It’s gonna be a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/617840172796624896/lena-luthor-s6e1-opens-with-kara-welcoming-lena).


	21. old feelings, new beginings (part 2) [RC/SC]

It’s fine that Lena’s dating Andrea now.

It really is. Kara’s happy for her. 

She’s happy that there’s no steely edge to Lena’s smile like the year before, no angry tension in her shoulders. She’s happy that _they_ are in a good enough place that Lena will sometimes hold her hand when they stroll together (they’re going out to get lunch together again, and have the occasional dinner date). She’s happy that they can hug again without pretenses and Lena will nuzzle her face into Kara’s neck, humming contentedly, that she has no qualms about curling up on the couch with Kara for movie nights. She’s happy that Lena is calling her “my _hero_ ” again, with that teasing little lilt in her voice that sets Kara’s heart fluttering and tends to result in her speeding through the air and breaking the sound barrier the second she parts from Lena.

And if Lena’s love also extends to Andrea now (the sort of love that means _kisses_ and _dates_ and the occasional tone of voice that makes Kara blush, even if she’s not on the receiving end of it), then Kara can and will be happy for them.

So she makes sure there’s a smile on her face every time Lena stops by CatCo and heads straight for Andrea’s office after waving hello to Kara, then makes _very_ sure it doesn’t turn strained when Lena greets Andrea with a kiss. She pays close attention to shutting out their voices, a commitment to privacy as much as the protection of her own sanity after overhearing what Andrea was murmuring to Lena _once_ , and then had to take thirteen laps around the globe to air it out of her head. She invites Andrea to their game nights and even to Thanksgiving because _Lena, you’re family, she’s your girlfriend, of course it’s fine_. 

And Andrea, for all her big bad boss persona, even turns out to be surprisingly pleasant, kicks serious ass at charades, and brings the best booze every time, winning Alex’s eternal support. There’s objectively _nothing_ that Kara can complain about.

But there is a limit, and the limit, as it turns out, is heroic saves.

It’s _Kara’s_ thing, it’s always been – there was probably an assassination attempt or a supervillain for every major touchstone in their relationship. She practically _met_ Lena saving her life, has done it dozens and dozens of times ever since. She knows the gentle weight of Lena in her arms, the tight clutch of her arms around Kara’s neck, the way her heart speeds up then calms as she settles into Kara’s embrace, like it’s second nature. It should be her job and her job only, always and forever, no other party necessary.

It’s perfectly reasonable for Kara to be absolutely _fuming_ when she spots Lena in Acrata’s arms as the quarterly supervillain strike on an L-Corp function unfolds around them.

For one, Acrata is somehow levitating now, in safe distance above the now utterly destroyed podium, looking entirely too cool as she does it and that’s not even remotely fair. For another, Lena looks not only unrattled but utterly _enamored_ nestled in her arms, and Kara punches out the next three footsoldiers in her way hard enough that they end up lodged in the concrete wall across the room.

She takes out eight more before she deems that the rest of the team has things under control, and zooms up to the balcony where Acrata has now landed, though still holding Lena. No amount of shadow powers could hide the smirk that greets Kara under that black mask.

“We’re fine here, Supergirl.” Her tone is the exact same concoction as boardroom-Andrea’s, self-assured with just a hint of condescension, but turned up to eleven. “No need for assistance.”

Kara can feel her face heating up in response, her tongue twisting into a very unheroic stammer.

“You’re holding her all wrong!” She protests, exasperated, and Lena twists out of Acrata’s arms with a concerned look.

“It’s really fine, don’t worry.” She steps closer to Kara and reaches out to lay a hand on her forearm, rubbing soothingly. “Is everything okay?”

Kara stares down at her boots. The question digs ruthlessly into her chest and leaves her powerless, her mind seething with thoughts that she’s sunk down into the depths before, a voice yelling _absolutely not_ and _I would lasso the Moon and bring the stars down to Earth to have you look at me like that, that’s all_.

“You know I always want to protect you,” is what she ends up mumbling, head hanged. She’s not sure if the sigh Lena lets it in response makes her feel better or worse. The way Lena draws closer, close enough until their bodies are almost pressed together, _that_ definitely makes Kara feel like she’s on fire.

“I know, darling.” Lena’s voice is soft, almost a whisper. She curls her fingers around Kara’s chin and gently presses until Kara raises her head. The look that meets her on Lena’s face is devastatingly tender, pitiful, almost. It aches. “You don’t need to be the sole bearer of that task anymore, okay? I’m sure the team has more pressing issues to take care of, too.” 

As if the universe was just itching to make a point, a blast shakes the hall, followed by yelling below them, and a string of expletives from Alex over the comms. Kara knows she needs to go, kick herself in the air and kick some ass, but she feels moored to the spot. She needs time to tell Lena at least how she’ll always be there for her, that Lena could be dating Wonder Woman and Kara would still be rushing to her defense as long as there was any strength in her body.

Lena makes it easy for her. She leans up and presses a kiss to Kara’s cheek, smiling bright.

“Go be a hero.”

Heart about to burst in her chest, Kara presses her hand to the spot that Lena’s lips touched before she’d obey the instruction. She stares down at Acrata once she’s in the air again, shoulders squared: it might be petty, but she wants to allow herself to enjoy the advantage of her position just once.

“Take her to safety.” 

The words come out halfway between a plea and a command, but Acrata only smiles in response. 

“Don’t worry,” she extends her hand and Lena takes it, a well-rehearsed motion. A cloud of black smoke swirls around them, but they don’t disappear until Acrata throws out with a smirk: “I know how to take care of her.”

Later, once the hall is filled only with unconscious goons and the Super team catching their breaths, Alex taps on her shoulder and gives her a hard look.

“Took your sweet time there mid-fight.” When Kara only shrugs, wordless, Alex’s face softens. “You okay?”

Kara picks on the hem of her sleeves.

“Can we go punch something else, please?”

It’s not all fine, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/622755886398668800/part-2-sort-of-its-fine-that-lenas-dating).


	22. partnership [RC]

“You really should learn how much sunscreen you need to put on, baby.”

Lena only mumbles something in response, pressing her face deeper into the pillow: her shoulders and the back of her neck have turned from pale to crimson, the evidence of the nine hours they’ve spent at the dig site. She inhales sharply every time Andrea’s fingers brush against the sunburnt skin, gently rubbing aloe vera over the angry red patches.

It’s their second week tucked away somewhere in Tuscany and they are having an exquisite time, spending most of their days on the excavation of an old temple under the leadership of Julia Kapatelis, then lazing away in a charmingly dusty villa for the rest. It’s not their first time working on a dig (the fourteenth, in fact, if Andrea’s memory serves), but Lena’s never been one to excel at self-care, especially when there’s exciting scholarly activity to dive in head-first instead.

“We’re gonna have to wrap you in a sheet for tomorrow,” Andrea teases. She runs her hand over Lena’s naked back, down the line of her spine, and Lena’s muffled hisses turn into a giggle. 

“Oh, stop it,” she mumbles back. Andrea can feel her rolling her eyes even with her face hidden against the pillow. “You know I’ll be just fine.”

Andrea sets the gel aside and lays down on the bed next to Lena, propped up on her forearms.

“I know you’re fine,” she murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss right below Lena’s shoulder blades. “But your upper back could stand in for the flag of Vienna.”

Lena snorts.

“ _Very_ witty, Miss Rojas.”

Andrea smiles and moves slightly downward, accompanying her next words with another soft kiss.

“A laticlave, if you want to stay more on topic.”

“Keep it up, and it’s gonna be Luthor–Rojas and not Rojas–Luthor on the byline of our next paper,” Lena shoots back, but there’s no real bite in her tone: Andrea can feel her relaxing into the bed, sighing softly with every kiss.

“I’m always happy to let you come first,” Andrea offers, grinning, nipping lightly at the skin of Lena’s lower back. Lena chuckles and swats at Andrea blindly with one hand: Andrea ducks and catches Lena’s hand, pressing her lips into her palm. “Do you need some ibuprofen? More water?”

“It’s _fine_ , Andy.” Lena rolls to her side and in one sublime instant, Andrea is reminded that her beloved mess of a girlfriend is lying in their bed gloriously topless. Lena’s lips quirk into a knowing smirk, and she tugs on Andrea’s hand. “Come here and hold me.”

Andrea scoots up next to her eagerly, and gently wraps an arm around Lena’s waist.

“I’m gonna be in charge of the sunscreen tomorrow, though,” she says, pressing a kiss to the tip of Lena’s nose, and Lena’s expression shifts into something endearingly bratty as she burrows into Andrea’s arms.

“You’re the boss, honey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/629433424270245888/king-pls-when-you-have-the-time-can-we-have).


	23. routines [SRC]

The sight of Supergirl and Lena Luthor cuddled up on one’s couch sleeping would be surreal enough to make the jaw of any ordinary citizen of Earth-Prime drop to the floor.

For Andrea Rojas, it’s only another Thursday night.

(It’s not that it’s not surreal to her sometimes, to be dating both of National City’s heroes. It’s not that the thought of _I’m dating my childhood-best-friend-turned-love-of-my-life and an actual superpowered alien_ doesn’t make her want to pinch herself every once in a while just to make sure it’s all real and not just a very long VR session. But Andrea has never been one to balk from the challenge of any such wild, unconventional, deeply thrilling rides.)

Now, she only smiles, fond, endeared. She takes care to shut the door of their apartment quietly enough not to wake them, and slips out of her stilettos before she’d walk over to the couch.

It’s a scene she’s seen a thousand times before. 

Kara’s head is tipped back, resting against the back of the couch, mouth open and lightly snoring. It’s an almost ridiculously adorable sight of the _Paragon of Hope_ : Andrea’s heart constricts at it as it _always_ does, and she resists the urge to reach out and stroke Kara’s hair. She notes, instead, that Kara is still wearing the supersuit, the red of her cape standing in stark contrast with the pristine white of the couch, half of it tucked under Kara’s body. The other half is wrapped around Lena like a blanket, with Kara’s arm thrown over her shoulder and pressing her tightly into Kara’s side, a double shield of Kryptonian comfort enveloping her in Kara’s warmth. Lena’s face is tucked into her neck in turn, tousled hair falling over her cheek, obscuring the lines of deep exhaustion that Andrea knows must be there.

Before she could keep admiring her girlfriends all smitten, or sneak off to the bedroom to get a blanket for them, though, Kara suddenly wakes with a yawn. Her eyes open slowly, bleary for a second before she turns them to Andrea, a soft smile spreading on her face as she recognizes her figure.

“You’re staring again,” she murmurs and Andrea smiles back and moves to kneel beside her on the couch.

“Hi, baby,” Andrea whispers back, finally reaching out to brush away an errant curl from Kara’s face. Kara hums contentedly, pressing into her hand, and Andrea lets her fingers roam, smoothing gently over Kara’s brows, cupping her face. “Long day?”

“Long night.” Kara turns her head just enough to be able to press a kiss to the heel of Andrea’s palm. “Had to make a space trip too. And _then_ I had to carry this one home before she’d fall asleep at her desk.”

“Gross exaggerations.” It’s only the sleepy, barely audible mumbling that alerts them that Lena is awake now too: she stays unmoving, face still hidden against Kara’s shoulder. “I would’ve left by four.”

“I’m sure,” Andrea snorts. She shares a look of fond exasperation with Kara: Lena’s _four_ usually means _four in the afternoon the following day, after she becomes so immersed in the project that she forgets about anything outside of her lab_ or maybe, in a slightly better scenario, _four in the morning, but likely Hawaiian time_.

Lena must feel the gentle silent judgement too: she lifts her head and stares hazy-eyed at Andrea first, then Kara.

“Andy’s home the latest anyways,” she murmurs, petulant, and Andrea wants to reach out and wrap her in her arms, wants to kiss away those weary lines from her face, wants to hold Lena till she’s peacefully asleep again. She settles for reaching out and drawing Lena’s hand into her own, linking their fingers together.

“Busted. Can we take this to bed, babe?”

“Just another minute,” Lena yawns, then tugs on her hand. “C’mere and hold me.” 

Andrea lets herself be moved over to Lena’s side, lets Lena burrow against her until Andrea is firmly pressed against her back, an arm wrapped around Lena’s middle, while Lena’s head comes to rest on Kara’s shoulder again.

“Five minutes, then I’m carrying you to bed,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of Lena’s head. The only response she gets is a breathy little snore, then Kara’s low chuckle.

(She does make good on her word and falls asleep, in the dead of night, with Lena still curled up in her arms, Kara’s cape draped over the three of them.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/628068479385452544/keep-thinking-about-romantic-superrojascorp).


	24. the favorite (knight AU) [SRC]

The tent does not shut out the clamour of the tourney, the rattle of armour and lances and the shouts of the enthused crowd, but the princess’ figure is all that fills Kara’s senses. 

Lena’s standing close, closer than decorum would allow, all but pressed against her, and Kara can feel nothing but the gentle scrape of her fingers against her armour as she ties her favour around Kara’s arm, the light perfume of rosewater around her, the gentle redness of her shoulders where she’s been kissed by the summer sun. It makes Kara forget all about jousts and knightly vows until her thoughts are filled with nothing but the desire to press her lips there too, to wrap her arms around her princess and let the entire world dissolve and disappear. _Enchanted_ , some troubadour’s songs would say. _Devoted in loving service_ , Kara would prefer.

The little half-smile playing on the princess’ lips tells that she knows exactly what thoughts are playing in Kara’s head. Her favour, a ribbon of emerald green silk, is already resting securely, but she doesn’t move away: she only drags her hand from Kara’s arm to the sigil etched into the middle of her chestplate. Kara can feel her face blooming red as she watches Lena tracing the outlines of the _S_ in a light, unfelt caress.

“Strike true today, my knight,” the princess murmurs, and the answer springs so eagerly to Kara’s lips, like a vow of obedience:

“Always.”

It only makes Lena’s smile widen, her eyes brightening with a mischievous light, and Kara knows she could dare ask for a kiss then, that she could even dare to lean forward and take the rushed, eager wish of _good luck_ from the princess’ lips.

But before she , the tent’s flaps are ripped apart and Princess Andrea strides inside.

They both jolt at the interruption, first, but once they recognize the figure of Kara’s visitor, they don’t hasten to break apart in blushing embarrassment. Lena only strokes Kara’s cheek lightly, then gently disentangles herself from the knight’s grasp, letting Andrea take her place. The other princess looks Kara up and down, imperious as ever, her gaze lingering on the blush on Kara’s cheeks more than on the state of her armour.

“Very fearsome, sir knight,” she finally says, an edge of teasing clear in her voice. “But something’s missing. Kneel.”

Kara can see Lena rolling her eyes, but the knight smiles already as she sinks to her knees. Andrea loves to be like this, commanding where Lena prefers gentle teasing, staying haughty where Lena might temper an order with playfulness. Kara adores her for it just the same. 

She doesn’t bother to bow her head. Andrea welcomes the show of insolence with a smile: she gestures silently for Kara to raise her arm, and the knight promptly obeys. She feels Lena moving to stand behind her, her hands coming to rest on Kara’s shoulders as Andrea bends over her, tying her own favour, black and silver, above Lena’s own.

“I expect to see my champion be crowned the champion of the joust,” she declares, still smiling, one eyebrow raised. “Better awe us today, Maid of Might.”

Kara can hear the exasperated huff from Lena’s lips, but she takes Andrea’s challenge with a smile bright and wide:

“Your wish is my command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/633048443844182016/ok-but-kara-as-a-knight-pledged-to-princesses).


	25. restraint [SRC]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning: horny behaviour ahead on this one

There is something decidedly artful about the way Kara looks now, tied to the headboard of their bed.

It is not their first time, of course. Lena’s had many opportunities to delight in the sight of the gentle stretch of Kara’s arms whenever she’d struggle not to tear against the silk bonds around her wrists, the tense arch of her neck when her head’s thrown back in loud ecstasy, the flexing tendon there that Andrea loves to bite at then. It feels like the eighth wonder of the world every time, the Girl of Steel surrendering herself into their hands in unabashed pleasure.

This time, though, feels even better.

Kara looks ravishing and ravished in equal measure now, face already blissed out before they’d even get started, hair tousled, spreading out into a golden halo on the pillows under her head. _Angelic_ , almost, even with the ties around her wrists and the sizeable strap-on jutting from her hips. Lena drinks in the sight of her: the heavy rise of her chest, the flexing of her abs under the half-unbuttoned shirt. Her bright blue eyes now hazy with desire, moving from Lena to Andrea’s figure, then back again. But Lena’s own gaze is drawn to Kara’s neck now, to the messy map of love-bites and lipstick stains they’ve left all over the hollow of her throat and the impeccable white of her shirt’s collar. Deep red and a muted pink, they stand out, loud, assertive, and oh, how Kara _loves_ to bear those marks.

Kara’s leg pressing against her thigh jolts Lena from her silent admiration.

“Enjoying the view?” Her girlfriend grins, somehow managing to be smug still, and Lena rolls her eyes and shuffles closer. She only reaches out at first, stroking along the collar and chuckling when Kara instinctively presses up against her hand.

“Don’t be a brat now,” she murmurs and bends forward, letting her lips brush over her own marks, smiling as she feels Kara’s breath hitch under her mouth.

“Or do,” Andrea’s voice drifts from above her. Lena straightens up and draws to the side again, letting her take the lead, feeling her own breath quicken as Andrea straddles Kara’s hips. She’s flushed from head to toe, and Andrea knows it, _loves_ it too: it’s clear in her preening, in the self-assured smile she flashes to Lena before she bends over Kara’s face to whisper: “It’ll only make it more fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/632355479519199232/idea-kara-with-a-white-shirt-and-lipstick-marks).


	26. morning mischief [SR]

It’s the perfect morning.

Kara knows it already when she wakes to the sunlight just flooding her apartment, tickling her skin and illuminating everything with its golden glow. It makes her oddly serene: the feeling settling deep and warm in her chest, then expands beyond measure when she feels Andrea curled up against her, face pressed into the crook of Kara’s neck. 

For once, there are no sirens blaring in her ears, no aliens crashing into an office building, no editorial meetings to rush to, no kittens stuck in trees. For once, the first time in _weeks_ , Kara gets to keep holding Andrea in her embrace when she wakes with a yawn, gets to whisper _good morning, beautiful_ and kiss the sleepy pout off her lips. They get to linger in bed, limbs entangled, trading lazy, shallow kisses and basking in the light of the morning sun and each other’s warmth. Then the kisses turn deep, Andrea’s hands find their way into Kara’s hair, Kara presses Andrea onto her back, and they don’t leave the bed until it’s almost 11.

Usually, it’s a chore for Kara to slow herself down to human speed, to keep her own abilities reined in and operate at a mere fraction of her power. But in moments like this, she’s content to halt and linger, savoring the weight of every passing second, the steady, familiar rhythm of the rare days like this. She throws on a tank top and a clean pair of boxers, and moves around the apartment humming and whistling happily, finally setting about the task of making breakfast. Andrea’s heartbeat is in her ears as she mixes the pancake batter, her still-quickened breath twisting Kara’s lips into an all too satisfied smile. 

It’s not until she’s finished cutting up some fruit and managed to stack up a gargantuan amount of pancakes that Andrea emerges from the bedroom, hair tousled and nightgown only loosely tied. 

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Kara teases, flashing her a wide smile. Andrea rolls her eyes in response, the fondness of her expression undercutting the gesture, and leans against the kitchen wall.

“We’re not all blessed with superhuman stamina.” 

Kara breaks away from the stovetop for a second to offer a bowl of fruit to Andrea, leaning in and stealing a small kiss when Andrea accepts, then saunters back to her pancakes, the laugh that escapes Andrea’s lips reverberating in her chest. She loves it just as much as the tender little smile that Andrea watches her with, the one that’s etched into Kara’s memory by now, the kind of affection that’s reserved only for _her_. She loves it beyond reason, loves every instance of the board-room barbs giving way to something soft and carefree beneath: the Andrea who watches cheesy rom-coms with her head resting on Kara’s chest and inevitably cries at the end, the Andrea who meets Kara’s corny jokes with an inelegant snort-laugh, the Andrea who washes the soot from Kara’s hair and massages the tense knots from her muscles when her Super duties leave her exhausted to her bones. She treasures it, this almost-shocking gentleness they’ve settled into, like the sun’s own warmth.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the Girl of Steel making me breakfast,” Andrea tells her, voice dropping just ever so slightly deeper when she says Kara’s name, the way it always manages to send a shiver running down Kara’s spine. She draws closer until she’s pressed against Kara’s back, arms wrapping around her stomach. “While looking so deliciously debauched.”

She ends her sentence with a kiss pressed to Kara’s shoulder and Kara almost launches the pancake she was trying to flip straight into the ceiling.

“You’re distracting me,” she pretends to complain as Andrea laughs and kisses her again, the protest immediately undermined by how she leans back into Andrea’s embrace.

“So?” This time, the kiss against her shoulder blade turns into a bite, and Kara almost shatters the spatula in her fist. She can feel Andrea smirking against her. “Do something about it.”

“Baby,” Kara starts, her words turning into a whimper when Andrea snakes her hands under Kara’s tank top and scratches at her abs. She twists around so she can face Andrea, wrapping her free arm around her waist and leaning down to capture her lips. For all the smolder and bravado, Andrea melts against her the moment their lips are pressed together. She smiles into their kiss, and keeps smiling when Kara draws back, forehead crinkling with the effort to concentrate. “I’m trying to make breakfast here.”

“I know.” Andrea stays pressed up against her, eyeing Kara with an all too innocent look. “Like I said, it’s an irresistible sight.”

Her hand that was resting on the small of Kara’s back starts to inch ever so slightly lower, and Kara puts the spatula aside and turns the burner off at superspeed.

“Are you trying to deprive me of a meal?” She pouts, her fake indignance only being met with a mischievous smile.

“I’m just suggesting a few additions to your menu. A rich, balanced diet and all.”

The idea doesn’t even fully form in Kara’s head before she reaches for the can of whipped cream on the counter. Her hand is a little jittery, her aim is slightly off, but she dives right in to lick the dollop off from Andrea’s collarbone anyway, just in time to hear her surprised yelp turn into laughter. 

“Best of both worlds,” Kara grins, straightening up again, and Andrea shakes her head, her nose scrunching with the force of her smile. There’s the faintest hint of flushing in her cheeks.

“You’re such a dork.” She moves her hands from Kara’s waist to the back of her neck, fingers sinking into Kara’s hair. “And your aim is _terrible_.”

Kara raises an eyebrow and accepts the challenge.

Andrea tilts her head slightly, as if she already anticipates Kara’s next move, and this time, Kara gets both quantity and placement just _right_ , in one clean streak along the elegant line of Andrea’s neck. This time, when she leans forward, she can hear the thundering of Andrea’s heartbeat in her ears before she’d even press her lips to her skin and feel the throb of it against her mouth. Kara luxuriates in it, taking it slow: she drags her tongue from the crook of Andrea’s neck to her pulse point, grazing lightly with her teeth. She doesn’t even think to smother her grin when she hears the moan it draws from Andrea and feels the way her fingers tighten in Kara’s hair, gripping, holding her close, then loosening with a sigh when Kara presses a small kiss just below her ear.

“Better?” Kara asks smugly when she leans back. Andrea stares at her, lips parted: her skin is thoroughly flushed now, down to the haphazardly loose opening of her robe.

“Improving.” She cards her fingers through Kara’s hair before leaning forward and whispering, voice so low and raspy that it hits Kara like a truck: “Try again.”

Kara’s nothing short of enthusiastic in following her suggestion.

It might just be their best morning yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/625561164254986240/its-the-perfect-morning-kara-knows-it-already).


	27. unwind [SR]

By the time Kara marches through the halls of CatCo and into Andrea’s office, the bullpen is almost empty, the sky outside black as tar. Even the city outside sounds muted, winding slowly down. But Andrea, is still at her desk, engrossed in her work, sifting through papers: she only looks up when Kara plops herself down on her couch with a dramatic sigh. **  
**

“Hello, love,” she greets Kara, watching with an ever-so-slightly fond smile as Kara stretches herself out, tired and graceless, head leaning against the back of the couch, legs spread. “I missed seeing you around the office.”

“I just lifted a wrecked oil tanker out of the Barents Sea and hauled it to port,” Kara complains in lieu of a greeting. She’s beyond tired: her limbs feel like goo, exhaustion seeping deep into her bones, into the very marrow. She just wants to whine about it a little, and then be cuddled by her girlfriend (the thought of kissing optional but welcome). “Nia’s gonna report on it, before you’d ask, and it reminds me that we really should be publishing more on the oil industry’s greedy practices and their relentless damaging of our planet.”

Kara can see Andrea’s smile deepening as she talks, she can see her nose crinkling and the dimples appearing in her cheeks, her expression turning from _fond_ to downright _enamored_. It makes Kara feel a little warmer, a little less drained.

“Noted, Miss Danvers,” Andrea says. She returns to her papers to sign her name with impeccable flourish somewhere, then stands and walks over to her liquor cabinet. Her hips sway _just so_ as she moves, and Kara stares, unabashed in her admiration. Her gaze only flicks back up once Andrea turns around with a glass of whiskey in her hand and an all too knowing smile on her face. “Would you like one?”

“I would like you to be in my arms,” Kara replies. She hears the immediate uptick in Andrea’s heartbeat, sees the slight blush in her cheeks, but Andrea’s also never one not to play it _cool_.

“How forward,” she muses. She takes a long, slow slip of her drink before she’d set the glass aside and cross the room with such intent in her movement that Kara can feel her stomach flipping. It only intensifies once Andrea hovers over her, an eyebrow raised: a prompt, a question. Kara reaches out to answer it and Andrea lets their fingers intertwine, lets Kara tug her forward until she’s straddling her lap, her arms wrapped around Kara’s shoulders. Her hair falls forward like a curtain, tickling Kara’s face, and Kara inhales its scent deeply: Andrea surrounds her like a soft, warm blanket, and Kara’s only happy to sink into the feeling.

“Hi,” she breathes. She wraps her arms around Andrea’s waist, and Andrea presses up closer against her in turn.

“Hi,” she murmurs back. She sinks a hand into Kara’s hair, gently scratching at her scalp, and Kara has to keep her eyes from fluttering shut immediately, melting into Andrea’s touch. Andrea laughs, low, endeared. “Any other requests?”

“Kiss me, please.”

The twinkle in Andrea’s eyes darken at that. She licks her lips, making Kara wait for a single, torturous moment before she’d slowly lean in and press their mouths together. 

It’s soft, sweet, and excruciatingly slow: Andrea sets a languid, thorough pace, and Kara’s happy to follow her lead, to be kissed until she feels like she’s floating, boneless and blissed out. Andrea sighs into Kara’s mouth, rocks gently against her torso and the senses Kara felt dimming with exhaustion before are suddenly all turned up to eleven again. She whines when they finally break apart, chases after Andrea’s lips until she’s stopped by a gentle finger pressed to her mouth. 

“Not so tired, after all, baby?” Lips kiss-swollen and lipstick properly smudged, Andrea looks adorably smug. “We should get home.” 

“Okay,” Kara murmurs, but doesn’t move, only tightening her hold around Andrea’s hips. “But kiss me a little more before that.” 

Ever the considerate girlfriend, Andrea rolls her eyes with fond exasperation, and obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/629366044250767360/by-the-time-kara-marches-through-the-halls-of).


	28. vacation [SR]

Andrea’s eyes zero in on Kara’s figure the second she emerges from the water and starts to walk back towards the sandy expanse of the beach.

She knows Kara must know that she’s watching, must be able to see Andrea’s eyes even under the tinted glasses. She knows Kara’s well aware of how much Andrea loves to watch her like this, drenched by the waves and gleaming in the sun, every finely carved muscle on ample display as she slowly wades through the waves. And she knows that Kara’s indulging her to the fullest, because it would take her less than a second to simply speed through the splashing water and out to the spot where Andrea’s lounging.

Andrea greatly appreciates the gesture.

But the graceful display only lasts until Kara’s standing by their blanket. Andrea lowers her sunglasses, but before she could even think about shooting a _look_ , Kara shakes herself with a grin, then unceremoniously plops herself down right on top of Andrea.

It draws the most undignified squeal from Andrea’s lips. 

“This is nice,” Kara murmurs, head pressed against Andrea’s bare stomach, upper body comfortably sandwiched between Andrea’s legs, and Andrea’s only gasping, breathless, because her sun-heated body is now met with the icy coldness of the ocean.

“This is _freezing_ , you absolute–,” she heaves, mind not quite made up on the appropriate admonishment, and Kara pops her head up with a grin.

“Maybe you should come into the water next time instead of just ogling me from the shore.”

“Each to their own pleasures,” Andrea retorts. She still shivers a little, but the alien heat of Kara’s body pressed against her own starts to register too, balancing the shock of the water, still dripping from Kara. “Why else would I have brought you here?”

“Because you’re the world’s most amazing girlfriend?” Kara immediately returns with a smile. When Andrea rolls her eyes, she leans a bit forward, pressing a kiss to her stomach. “Because you wanted both of us to have a nice little break?” Andrea’s face stays stern, but her body relaxes, and Kara feels it too: she lifts herself up with a victorious smile, pressing the next kiss to Andrea’s sternum. The soft touch of her lips give way to a light nip this time, making Andrea’s breath hitch in her throat, the hand she’s raised to stroke Kara’s hair now gripping the wet curls instead. “Because you love me just as much as I love you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Andrea cups Kara’s chin and tries to muster the most severe look possible when one’s being sweet-talked by her superhero girlfriend. “Come here, you dork.”

Her words are met with a satisfied spark in Kara’s eyes. She smiles and she rises to meet Andrea’s lips, warm and open and _hungry_ , then presses Andrea down to the blanket with such enthusiasm that any other complaint about Kara getting her wet is banished from Andrea’s mind for long hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/628626330937868288/superrojas-relaxing-and-soaking-up-that-vitamin-d).


	29. comfort [SR]

Kara can hear Andrea’s angry pacing from miles away.

She’s supposed to be listening out for sirens and yells and cries for help, but the city murmurs with reassuring calmness beneath her, and the only sound of distress Kara can pick up is that of her girlfriend.

It takes her fifteen seconds to carry out one more quick scan of the city, and then five more to tell J’onn she’s signing off for the night. Then she’s speeding through the maze of skyscrapers, the cold night air, the clamor of the city below, through the half-open balcony door of their apartment and into the living room, the anxious beat of Andrea’s heart thundering in her ears. Her arms are already open and reaching out as she steps inside, but Andrea doesn’t even notice her at first.

She’s standing by the liquor cabinet, tipping the bottle of whiskey in her hand so vehemently that half its contents land outside of the glass, soaking into the polished oak instead. Andrea swears, low and sharp, then slams the bottle down hard enough that Kara can hear the crystal’s light crack against the surface.

She steps in before the glass could meet the same fate, hands wrapping gently around Andrea’s own.

“Hey, hey,” she whispers, and Andrea jolts at her touch. She stares wildly at Kara first, heartbeat hiking up, then quieting down again as she recognizes her unannounced visitor. She lets Kara coax the glass out of her hand and set it aside, but her face only softens so much: she braces a hand against the sigil on Kara’s chest and gives her a guarded look.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be, Supergirl?”

Her tone is measured, but Kara can hear the tremor underneath it, the hint that the tough front she still tries to put up is ready to crumble at any moment. Kara only wants to hasten it, to have Andrea wrapped in her arms already, to see that high-strung expression disappear and feel the tension melt from her shoulders.

“I’m right where I’m needed,” she replies, gentle but unyielding, and covers Andrea’s hand with her own. She can feel Andrea ever so slightly sagging against her in turn, a tremulous sigh leaving her lips. A small but promising step in this ever-going dance of theirs, with Andrea’s reluctance to let her guard down, and Kara’s burning eagerness to help, to comfort. “What’s wrong, baby? Who do I need to punch?” 

Andrea snorts and rolls her eyes, but only half-exasperated: the reluctant little smile tugging at the corner of her lips is all the encouragement Kara needs. She wraps an arm around Andrea’s waist, drawing her closer, gently rubbing her back as Andrea burrows deeper into her embrace. “I will figure out a way to land an uppercut on the stock market, if need be.”

“It’s a mess, it’s all a fucking _mess_.” The answer bubbles up on Andrea’s lips in a sudden burst. She buries her face into the crook of Kara’s neck, her breath washing over Kara’s skin in ragged takes, hot, ticklish. “Research is hitting a wall, our deadlines are not met on the VR updates, the board is getting uneasy, it’s…” She snorts, teary, and wraps an arm around Kara’s neck, clinging tightly. “It just doesn’t _work_.”

Kara only holds Andrea closer, even gentler, whispers _It’s okay, it’s okay_ and presses small kisses to her temple until she feels the small, tired sobs shaking her body finally quiet down.

“You’ll make it work, I know it,” she murmurs. Andrea slumps against her with a weary sigh and Kara runs her hands gently over her back again. “You’re so brilliant, Andrea.”

Her words are met with something halfway between a sniffle and a giggle: Andrea draws back to look her in the face again, bleary-eyed, but with a faint smile on her lips this time.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she deadpans, and Kara smiles.

“Give yourself a break, baby,” she murmurs, cupping Andrea’s face in her hands, then lends down to kiss the last of the tears away from her cheek. There’s a little uptick in Andrea’s heartbeat, a shaky breath falling from her lips, and Kara delights in knowing that its cause is no longer exhaustion. She reaches down, tangling their fingers together again. “C’mon, let me draw you a bath.”

Andrea nods, but doesn’t move: she presses their foreheads together instead, their lips meeting in a small, tender peck, an unsaid _thank you_.

“As long as you’ll join me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/post/633157597129818112/in-your-last-superrojas-ficlet-you-wrote-tired).


	30. new year, new us [SC]

_Come over_ , Kara texts her at 5:41 pm, followed up by _New Year’s Eve party :)_ when Lena doesn’t respond.

It makes her heart sink.

They are supposed to be over it. They’ve talked – fought, yelled, ugly-cried, circled each other like wounded animals for weeks and weeks, and now they are supposed to be _healed_. Stronger together. Kara gives her hugs and visits her office to bring her lunch and beams at Lena with her old, boundless affection again.

Lena can hardly bear it.

With every gentle word exchanged, every friendly touch and easy smile, Lena only feels the shame and doubt and bitter guilt that’s been gnawing at her multiply thousandfold. Kara’s sheer presence in her life is too great a gift, too undeserved, yet Lena yearns for it too, fiercely, endlessly, as starved for Kara’s love as she feels unworthy to receive it. It’s a pained, maddening struggle with no end in sight.

 _I’m busy_ , she texts back now, the playfulness that would’ve come naturally to her before being measured carefully so that the declination wouldn’t seem brusque: _No rest for the wicked._

 _And you’re divine_ , the answer comes without even missing a beat, making Lena almost drop her phone, her heart rattling madly in her chest and her fingers shaky as she types her reply:

_Trying to trick me with your wordsmithery?_

_Trying to get you to give yourself a break._ Lena cannot help but smile: Kara’s ability for unintended, rampant flirting is only surpassed by her capacity for caring. _And I really need a partner to break Alex and Kelly’s winning streak at charades. They’re getting annoying about it._ Lena hesitates, rereading the words again and again, eyes getting stuck on _I need a partner_ every time, until the three little dots pop up at the bottom of her screen once more: _Pretty, pretty please?_

It’s a mistake, Lena well knows. She should excuse herself and cut the conversation short, arrange for another, less loaded meeting like a brunch next weekend or a lunch when she’d next swing by CatCo to placate Kara, and leave it at that.

 _Can’t refuse such a cry for help_ , she types back instead, and the reply comes almost immediately:

_My hero ❤️_

Lena doesn’t realize she’s clutching her phone to her chest as she leaves her office until she sees her reflection on the elevator doors.

_–_

It takes ten minutes for Lena’s car to reach Kara’s building, then three to climb the stairs. It takes another ten minutes of nervous pacing at the end of the hallway, nails digging into her palm, for Lena to actually decide to walk to Kara’s door and dare to knock.

The door flies open and Kara tugs her into a tight hug before Lena could even blink. She lets herself sink into its comfort, lets herself enjoy the solid mass of Kara’s body pressing against her own for longer than it would be advisable before she finally disentangles herself.

“I’m so glad you came,” Kara breathes, smiling wide. Lena only nods, tongue-tied under the sudden, affectionate attention as Kara helps her out of her coat, then moves toward the kitchen immediately, hand wrapped around Lena’s own. “Can I get you anything? We haven’t popped the champagne yet but–”

“I’m fine,” Lena finally manages. She’s anything but. She does manage to wave _hello_ to Kelly and Nia chatting at the other end of the kitchen, and nod to Alex and J’onn, engaged in deep conversation in the living room. “So,” she turns back to Kara, forcing a playful smile on her face and staunchly ignoring the tremor in her hands, the way her heart rattles in her chest. “Is it time for some game night ass-kicking?”

“Sure,” Kara nods, but her face is strangely distracted. She looks down at their intertwined fingers, her thumb gently stroking the back of Lena’s hand. “Could I show you something first, though?”

The _something_ turns out to be the view from her bedroom window: the night sky towers above them with remarkable clarity, its inky blue spattered with the white gleam of the stars. 

“You wanted to show me…” Lena follows the arc of Kara’s outstretched hand, and narrows her eyes, confused. “The new moon?”

“It’s Rosh Chodesh too,” Kara smiles. “What a coincidence, right? The perfect night for new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” Lena repeats mechanically, and Kara nods.

“At the start of this year, I didn’t know if I could ever see you as a friend again.” Lena casts down her eyes: there’s something so awfully tender in Kara’s face, her voice, that she can hardly bear hearing it, much less holding Kara’s gaze. She’s ready to hear the next words – that it’s been a failure since, that Kara doesn’t want her in her life after all, that _she_ knows Lena’s _not_ okay and doesn’t care to keep up the charade any longer. But those words never come. Instead, Kara only draws closer, her free hand reaching up to cup Lena’s face, an electric, world-rending touch. “And now I wouldn’t have wanted to spend this night without you here.”

The room spins, Lena’s heartbeat grows into a thunderous beat in her ears. She’s gasping, feeling like she’s burning up, stammering something unintelligible, but Kara’s still _there,_ the touch of her hands mooring Lena’s entire world.

“I know it’s been hard to see eye to eye again,” she whispers. “For both of us. But I’ve learned that… If we just keep drowning in hurt, we can’t move forward. And I want to face this new year with you. Together.”

Lena risks raising her eyes again. It feels like a drunken, feverish dream to meet Kara’s gaze again and see it glisten with tears, and beneath it only gentle, unshakeable love.

“I want that too.” The words come out half-rasped, barely daring to be voiced first, then gaining strength as the gnawing feeling in Lena’s chest grows smaller. “Really, really much.”

When she feels Kara’s lips pressed against her temple, Lena dares to hope again.

(They are still holdings hands when the clock strikes twelve.)


	31. a hero's lies [SC]

“You know,” Lena murmurs thirty seconds into the report, eyes glued to the screen and cheeks adorably rosy with the two glasses of Malbec at dinner. “I think you’ve very much improved.”

Kara suppresses a groan. The headline _Supergirl Refutes Relationship Rumors With Multiple Associates_ floats across the bottom of the TV screen, and she gets to stare at herself standing smack dab in the middle in all her red-blue glory, shoulders squared, head held high, staring straight into the camera as she declares _“Lena Luthor is not my girlfriend”_. 

“See?” Lena giggles, shooting a look over her shoulder. “Not a hint of blushing there, so stern and believable. _Great_ job, darling.”

She leans up and presses a kiss to Kara’s cheek to punctuate her words and Kara _does_ groan this time, pressing her face into her wife’s shoulder to hide from the shame of witnessing Supergirl flash a conspiratorial smile and follow her statement up with “ _I should be so lucky, right?”._

“I hate this so much,” she grumbles. “It’s just the flippin’ _worst_.” 

She’s being overdramatic, she knows: in the great array of weird things that come with wearing a cape, this one’s hardly the _worst thing ever_. It’s just an annoyance, like getting a paper cut or stumbling over the same crack in the pavement and scraping your knee all over again. Kal has warned her about this, Kara herself has had a first-row seat at CatCo to the extents of obsession people can reach when it comes to the lives of celebrities, let alone superheroes.

It doesn’t mean she has to _like_ it.

But then Lena laughs again, warm and bright and affectionate, and the sound of it pulls Kara out of the mire of her displeasure, just as much as the hand coming up to gently stroke the crown of her head.

“It’s still very amusing, watching you do that,” Lena teases and Kara raises her head again with a sigh.

“I’m just sick of lying about loving you.”

The words stumble from her mouth in a huff. The smile on Lena’s face freezes, and Kara wants to take it back, to let it all pass with a joke, but before she could say another word, Lena reaches out, drawing Kara’s hands between her own.

“Hey now,” she whispers, her eyes growing tender with affection. “You know I’m all yours.” Her thumbs are stroking the back of Kara’s hand, gentle, reassuring. Kara lets out a deep breath and hazards a nod and Lena smiles again. There’s an edge to it this time that makes Kara’s heart stutter when Lena leans closer until their lips almost touch, and murmurs: “And you’re all mine.”

Kara nods again, eagerly, mouth suddenly parched, and she doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until she hears Lena’s low, throaty chuckle. Her wife doesn’t close the distance between them: instead, she only draws Kara’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the wedding band on her finger, her eyes still on Kara’s face.

“And that’s all that matters.” There’s a dark red smear against the Nth metal of her ring now, and a corresponding smudge on Lena’s still-parted lips, curling into a soft smile as she lets go of one hand and reaches up to cup Kara’s face. “Yeah?”

Kara swallows, heavy, and leans into her touch, her shoulders sagging just a little.

“Yeah.”


	32. support [RC]

Lena doesn’t look scared.

As they stand tucked away behind the podium in the great hall of the LuthorCorp HQ, biding their time before the start of the press conference, Lena looks every bit as composed as a  _ Luthor  _ is always supposed to be. She’s stoic and unshakeable like some ancient Roman, ready to face a restless, clamoring plebs. She might be a bit pale even for her usual self, sure, but she’s the very image of calm, quiet confidence. The leader that Lex was meant – and failed – to be.

Lena doesn’t  _ look  _ scared, but her hand is cold and sweaty against Andrea’s own, her fingers gripping so tightly that Andrea’s sure her hand is only seconds away from going numb. She doesn’t look rattled by the menacing murmurs of the crowd outside, but Andrea can see the almost imperceptible cracks on Lena’s mask – the nervous twitch of her lips, the all too rigid set of her shoulders. Andrea aches to ease their tension, to take some of the burden that threatens to crush her love.

Some suit slithers into view for a  _ three minutes till the start  _ reminder, then sinks away, and Andrea watches Lena’s jaw clench even harder as she nods.

“Hey,” she whispers, tugging gently on Lena’s hand. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Lena’s voice is hollow, matter-of-factly: she’s still staring ahead, resolute, but she’s holding onto Andrea with growing desperation. She exhales, ragged, and bites down on her lip once, twice before finally turning to face Andrea. “I’m terrified, Andy.”

Andrea doesn’t think twice before she reaches out to wrap her arms around Lena’s shoulders, tugging her into a tight hug. She holds Lena close, runs her hand over Lena’s back until her girlfriend presses her face into the crook of Andrea’s neck with a half-sobbed sigh, burrowing into her embrace like she used to do after a particularly bad day back in boarding school.

“If anyone can do this, it’s you,” Andrea whispers. She presses a small kiss to the side of Lena’s head, careful not to mess up her hairdo, then another, and another, until Lena no longer trembles. “I’ll be right here for you, okay? I’m always gonna be here for you.”

Lena still looks pale when she pulls back, but there’s a steelier glint in her eyes now, one that only warms and melts when their gazes meet again.

“I love you,” she breathes, and Andrea feels the  _ I love you  _ stuck on her lips, forcing her arms to stay at her side before she’d gather Lena up again and kiss her senseless and carry her away from all  _ this _ . Her eyes betray her instead, gaze dropping so unsubtly to Lena’s lips that it draws an almost smug smile from her girlfriend.

“Don’t mess up my makeup,” Lena murmurs and Andrea’s already leaning in with as much restraint as she can muster. Their lips meet in a feather-light kiss, a touch lasting mere seconds, but it feels endless, somehow. Elemental. A confession of everything that cannot be said now, a promise of so much more.

  
Lena’s eyes are still half-hooded when Andrea draws back, fluttering open only when Andrea reaches out to run her thumb over her bottom lip, swiping away the muted pink stain from the crimson of her mouth. She catches Andrea’s hand before she could draw it back and presses a kiss to her knuckles, her mouth moving in a silent  _ thank you _ . Then her face turns stern again and her shoulders are squared and she nods to the assistants lurking impatiently, and as Andrea watches her stride out to the podium, heart swelling, she knows one thing with unshakeable certainty: Lena Luthor will be unstoppable.


	33. bodyguard [SC]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by revisiting @battenthecrosshatches‘s exquisite [sketches](https://battenthecrosshatches.tumblr.com/post/190640459385/supercorp-as-that-coffee-stain-scene-from-the).

Lena can’t stand Sergeant Danvers.

She can’t stand _any_ of her PPOs, frankly. It’s always the same humorless face, the same square jaw and shorn hair, the same cheap cologne, and inescapably, the same thinly veiled disgust for her name.

(At least they only get to spit out her title or the usual _ma’am_ , instead of _Luthor_ , like the rest of the country.)

But there’s something especially irksome about Danvers.

In many ways, she’s cut from the same cloth as the others: the towering, bulky physique, the hard-set features, the air of indifference, the only distinguishing mark being that she’s _just_ handsome enough for Lena to have let her eyes wander for a second too long when they’ve first met.

It’s not _that_ , though. 

(Or not _just_ that, anyway.) 

It’s the dark, morose look in those ridiculously blue eyes, the haughty twitch of her lips every time she opens the car door for Lena. It’s the rigid, tense way Danvers carries herself, somehow both unnerving and magnetic, drawing Lena’s eye to her whenever she enters the room. It’s the way she just _has_ to know better than any other bodyguard how to protect her and make every aspect of Lena’s life harder in the process, and _then_ have the audacity to take all her reproachful looks with a stiff upper lip and a _just doing my job, ma’am_. It’s the fact that she _does_ make Lena feel more safe, somehow, and _cared for_ , too, in some odd, itchy way.

Lena cannot stand it.

–

In retrospect, she thinks she has the right to blame the incident at the studio on Sergeant Danvers, too. 

The bodyguard is standing by the door, _monitoring the room_ like a sullen statue, and Lena’s decidedly trying _not_ to look her way as she’s flipping through her papers. She’s wound up enough as it is, having to stand in for a major interview at the last minute and defend a controversial bill. She doesn’t need Sourface Danvers to aggravate it.

She’s not looking, then, as Jack is buzzing in her ear with his pep talk, a kind and gentle tone, nor when an assistant floats by with a _three minutes and we can go to the studio, ma’am_.

But she does look up when Eve strides into the room with a peppy exclamation of “Your coffee!”, the cup already enthusiastically extended towards Lena. She does look up, and by some freakish twist of fate, catches Sergeant Danvers looking right at her with the sort of searing intensity that makes Lena’s heart skip a beat, and her hand knocks a bit too forcefully against the cup in Eve’s hand, and–

“ _Fuck!_ ”

The coffee stain spreads rapidly across her blouse, and Lena instinctively sucks her stomach in to avoid scorching herself too. Eve’s already dabbing away at it, babbling a nervous mantra of _“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”_ , the fussing making Lena grasp the extent of the disaster more swiftly than the sight of the brown stain on the white silk.

“Stop it,” she grits out, springing up and away from Eve. She stares down at her blouse again, her nails digging hard into her palm. _Luck of the Luthors_. “Do we have anything I could change into?”

“There’s a spare in the car,” Eve says, slightly trembling. “But you’re on in like–”

“Can’t you give her your blouse?” Jack tries, and Lena shakes her head with an eyeroll.

“It’d never fit. God fucking–”

A pair of wide shoulders move into her view before she could finish, Danvers shrugging off her jacket and tossing aside her tie as she starts to unbutton her own shirt.

“You can’t be serious,” Jack laughs, a nervous tinge in his voice, and Danvers only spares a glance for him before she extends the garment towards Lena.

“My shirt’s altered to fit over my ballistic vest, so the chest to waist ratio should be compatible.” Practical, dispassionate, life-saving. It must only be due to the shock of the situation that Lena allows her eyes to linger on the exposed skin of the officer’s shoulders, the flexing biceps of her extended arm. Danvers shows no awareness of being ogled. “But you’re gonna have to tuck it under your blazer, ma’am.”

One heartbeat passes, then another. Then Lena reaches out and takes the shirt from Danvers, her fingers brushing over the bodyguard’s hand without meaning to.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Lena says, but the words come out breathless, somehow. Danvers only blinks, then gives a curt nod, thoroughly unmoved, and that helps Lena find her footing again. “Eve, organize Sergeant Danvers a new shirt. Jack, some privacy?”

Eve is scuttling away already and Jack follows her, too, though not without flashing an all too cheeky smile. Lena resists throwing her papers after him. She reaches for the hem of her blouse, and Danvers is already turning away, stuffing her tie into her pockets and putting her jacket over her now-exposed vest. A most infuriating knight in shining white body armor.

As she hurriedly buttons up the shirt and adjusts the sleeves, Lena tries to shut out every new sensation surrounding her with it. It proves to be an uphill battle. There’s a hint of _something_ around the collar, citrusy, slightly sweet, though not terribly intrusive. _Pleasant,_ even. Much worse is the lingering warmth of its previous wearer, wrapping itself around Lena and clinging stubbornly even when she’s in the interviewer’s chair like an invisible cloak, like a hug that could never be.

The interview goes well. Amazingly, frighteningly, "Press Secretary Grant sending an unprecedented _well done_ text two minutes after airing” kinda well. But when they’re back in the car and Lena catches herself pressing her face into the collar of that shirt and inhaling deeply, the tension in her shoulder that just dissipated returns tenfold.

Sergeant Danvers is nothing but _trouble_.


	34. unreal [SC]

“Hey, baby.”

Kara’s hands are heavy against her hips, a warm, reassuring weight, and every fibre of Lena’s body is screaming in need because it has been long, _too_ long, since she last indulged herself like this. It’s been too long since she’s gotten to enjoy the devastatingly tender touch of those hands, the murmur of soft, reassuring words, the firm press of Kara’s body against her own. 

(It’s been too long since she’s last seen that look of pure, loving devotion in Kara’s eyes, above all, the very same that Lena avoids meeting now or else she might die of shame.)

It’s an escape, like it’s always been: an outlet for unwanted, unseemly thoughts, a test of her limits. A safe-haven with increasingly murky and muddled waters that Lena braves less and less.

But she’s still _here_.

“I missed you,” Kara whispers, and Lena feels a familiar tremor run down her spine, an unwelcome warmth blooming in her chest, her face. She only stares sternly ahead, somewhere above Kara’s shoulder, aching for _more_ , the thought of _wrong wrong wrong_ echoing in her mind. Her silence only draws a laugh from Kara, low, rumbling, amused. “Are you cross with me, my love?”

Her right hand rises to Lena’s face now, a solitary finger gently stroking along her cheek before it comes to rest under Lena’s chin, and Lena’s too weak to resist when Kara tips her head back so that their eyes might meet.

She seems even more breathtaking these times, her attention all focused on Lena and Lena only, eyes shining clear and bright and so full of affection that Lena thinks she might drown in it. It’s more than enough to turn her mouth parched and leave her breathless. She knows Kara can feel her melting into her arms, surrendering, and sees her _delight_ in it, too, all too clear in the smug twist of her lips, the tightening hold around Lena’s waist.

She should end it. She should’ve ended it already. Instead, she lets Kara cradle her chin, lets her run a calloused thumb over Lena’s bottom lip, tugging gently, grinning when a small whine escapes Lena’s mouth.

“Let me make it up to you then,” Kara murmurs and she’s leaning in, close enough that her breath tickles Lena’s skin, close enough that Lena can see how wide her pupils are now, how her eyes flick down to Lena’s lips, eager, hungry. The stuff of Lena’s wildest dreams.

Her hand lands against Kara’s cheek with one desperate push when their lips are _just_ about to touch.

“Lena?” Kara stumbles back a step, the want on her face transforming into genuine concern, and Lena misses her warmth the second they break apart. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

Lena allows herself one last look at Kara as she stares confused, crestfallen. There’s no feeling of victory in it, no relief. She buries her face in her hands, the words burning her throat when she opens her mouth:

“End simulation.”


	35. winding down, winding up [SC]

Alex is staring.

Alex is staring at them in that steely, incredulous, _can’t-fucking-believe-you’re-making-me-see-this_ way, the kind that makes it feel like _she_ ’s the one with heat vision in the family.

Kara’s just too damn cozy to care.

Any other day, she might engage in their sisterly staring contest, try to look as icy and determined and hard-set as Alex can do so effortlessly, maybe even lock her arms and flex a little, because what she lacks in the whole _military hardass_ vibe, she makes up for with muscle mass.

But right now, she’s tucked into Lena’s arms, safe and warm and in the blissful state of being only half awake, the two of them snuggled so closely together on Kara’s couch that their bodies all but mould together under the blanket. Right now, Kara’s face is pressed into the crook of Lena’s neck and Lena’s fingers are carding through her hair, gently scratching at her scalp and it makes Kara feel weightless, like she’s floating on some cartoonish cotton candy cloud.

It’s pure _heaven_ , and no amount of disapproving glares can ruin it.

Some time passes in heavy silence, like it’s some showdown in a western – a minute, maybe five, Kara isn’t counting. But then Alex finally bursts:

“ _What_ are you _doing_?”

Her tone is low, somewhat pained, the kind she’s been reserving for the pair of them only. Kara blinks at her through half-lidded eyes.

“Relaxing after a hard day of work,” she replies, peeved, and burrows closer into Lena’s embrace. Her lips brush against Lena’s throat as she speaks, and Kara delights in the pleased little hum that it elicits. “What does it look like?”

Alex breathes in and out so vehemently like some tragic figure about to launch into a monologue about her misfortunes, her face twisting in a peculiar way.

“The hickey you’ve just sucked onto Lena’s neck can be seen from Hawaii.”

She sounds _very_ displeased, Kara realizes, and her eyes open wide with her utter confoundment. 

“That’s no reason to stare.”

“Don’t worry, Alex,” Lena interjects before Alex could get another word in. Her voice is low and raspy now, as it always gets when she’s sleepy and blissed out and Kara can feel it resonate in the very marrow of her bones. “I can assure you that’s the only one–”

“One too many.”

“The only one that’s visible.”

Kara can feel the victorious, self-satisfied smirk in Lena’s tone without having to look, and a giggle bubbles to her lips, giddy, inescapable. She tries to stifle it ever so half-heartedly, rubbing her face against the very spot on the hollow of Lena’s throat that drew Alex’s ire.

That’s probably the last straw.

Alex lets out a deep, weary sigh and turns, a “We’ll _talk_ ” tossed haphazardly over her shoulder as she marches out of Kara’s apartment, shutting the door behind herself with more force than necessary. Kara can still hear her mumbling _bonehead_ and _Jesus Christ, why me_ as she’s striding down the hallway, and she props herself up on the couch, bewildered:

“What’s _her_ problem?”


End file.
